Sylvester & Tuette: Cursed Doubt

Chapter Twenty

Tuette was terrified with a cold sheen of sweat seeming to exist entirely on her body. Her clothing soaked up some of it, leaving her feeling frigid as the cool night air tousled her with each movement.


And not her own movement: the frog’s. Upon first arriving in Accordia, she had been taken in by one of the large structures come to life, a string of blankets acting as an extended tongue. The properties of the oversized frog had made the tongue-blanket sticky to the touch and she had no hope of escaping from her prison-styled bed. She knew that in the history of the Life Spell that no creature had successfully digested anything meant to be ingested, but Tuette still felt very fearful.


Also, the frog-shaped home kept hopping around madly and it was any wonder that no one else was trying to stop it.


A question arose inside her head. Where are the Accordians? Why isn’t there at least one other person inside the frog with me? She couldn’t imagine that she had been the only tasty morsel available. Tuette then thought about Dermy and the others. Have they been taken by other houses as well or is mine the only active one?


Tuette wished she had answers but she was thoroughly in a position to do nothing but wait. If anything, the Spell would break at sunset, assuming that whoever had cast it was using snake eggs or another type of inferior egg. Perhaps she should be trying to sleep—


The frog leaped again, causing Tuette’s stomach to lurch. And resettle oddly inside her abdomen. She knew it felt odd because she could see the dark and cloudy sky straight ahead, through the window-eyes. Meaning the frog had to be on the sheer plateau wall that bordered the southwestern edge of Accordia, where the swamps terminated.


She knew that the townsfolk were happy to celebrate the fact that they had found viable profit in the local amphibians, but Tuette just didn’t understand why the Accordians had chosen to build the frog-shaped structures. Don’t they understand that something like the current situation was always a possible risk? Why not just rename their town to remind everyone that the best frogs are found here?


Thinking back to her swan-home, Tuette still had no idea where it had come from. But it had been Craspone who had ultimately led her and Dermy to the Grechy Pools. Had he known it was there? It was obvious it hadn’t been built there: someone with Life Spell knowledge had landed it there or had persuaded the swan to fly until daybreak, where it would undoubtedly revert to inanimate status and plummet into the swampy pools—


The frog leaped, this time landing with a watery thunk. Outside, Tuette saw water and immediately panicked, thinking how her swan would often inject lake or lek water and cause her to run out of Dehydro Stones because of it.


But the water did not enter through the glassless window panes. The Magik of the Life Spell made sure of that. The frog seemed content to sitting in the dark water, leaving Tuette in the dark, alone with her thoughts.


And when she thought about it, Tuette felt like an utter fool. I should’ve known better about using the Ring of Ten Minus Two! And traveling with those men and their forgetful minds was oftentimes infuriating! She was surprised that she hadn’t arrived and landed bodily against any structure. Of course, it was being thrown so far from the Ring’s Stone that had put her in this situation in the first place.


If she had arrived at the same time as the others, chances were that no frog-shaped house would’ve selected her from the group as a morsel. And they could’ve quickly found their way to the next Stone because Accordia was not their destination. Far from it!


But it hadn’t been Sylvester’s fault. Terry had mentioned forgetting what that sign read. And that was something she found she could easily forgive, even if it did mean that the others might cut her as a casualty and travel on ahead without her. At least one Curse would be destroyed, and she still had her Freezing Pote. She could locate Menginal and see if he had a lead on any other chicken flocks. But should I return to Zharinna and retrieve my swan or go back for that some other time? Tuette recognized that, in the end, it would be easier to go back to Mokel and then attempt to persuade the seleagles for a lift to Menginal’s Attitarry.


Tuette didn’t relish seeing Menginal again but she also couldn’t help but wonder if, perhaps, he was somehow involved. She remembered, grimly, the long days working in Gimble Valley. She could’ve sworn that there was at least one guide who was over a flock of chickens. If there had been, it would’ve been a heavily protected flock, due to their rarity.


She wondered silently at the coincidences. If she hadn’t been traveling with the troupe, could they have handled the situation with the large frogs? Surely Dermy would understand the theories behind handling such Potentially dangerous Magik but he had fled Tuette’s company when she had begun experimenting with her swan house years ago.


The whole situation reeked of puppetry.


And she hated being dangled around under someone else’s bidding.


Still, she had to admit that it was mostly working in her favor, so whoever had orchestrated for her to join the company of Sylvester for a quest to save the kingdom was, in the end, helping her. She had a fresh supply of Freezing Pote still, had garnished a wealth of information concerning World Spirits and the like that she otherwise would’ve avoided, and she would not only be helping rid the world of a terrible menace, but she’d also be one step closer to discovering a flock of chickens so as to eventually destroy her own Curse of the Hood. Or maybe even help finish what Count Roost had committed against Corunny Voidet.


But Tuette could only guess at the motif. Someone is obviously trying to please me, to keep me happy. And they know I’m Cursed. They have too. It wasn’t public knowledge, but someone had figured it out. She had actually even started believing that Corunny Voidet himself was playing out the whole situation. It would be easy for him to give his private tome of Curses to some maniac and then cultivate knowledge of her whereabouts.


It wasn’t the man’s style though. He was a traveler, like Tuette, and he would sometimes take apprentices and sometimes move about singularly. That still didn’t explain how he had lost his collected knowledge to some menial count.


Unless he had only fed the count what he wanted to know ad moved on, intending to toy with Tuette from a safe distance. She thought again to the Artificial-from-Afar Charm that had been employed twice against the group already. Tuette still didn’t understand how a man as physically imposing and mentally apt as Voidet had been taken and had somehow lost his tome.


Tuette realized, even back at Ta Speebie’s, that she could’ve asked the old ta to locate Corunny Voidet but that would’ve given away… well, she hadn’t known what. Only now did she realize how harmless it would’ve appeared to the group: she was looking for her old teacher. Of course, it would’ve come out eventually that Count Roost was using Voidet’s Magik knowledge and that would indicate that Tuette believed she could find Roost through Voidet.


But in truth, she just needed to find Voidet because she desperately wanted to be rid of her Curse.


If Roost had put Voidet into some type of coma or maybe even imprisoned him, that made at least a little sense: it was the scenario that Tuette was actually clutching too. Finding Roost meant, hopefully, finding Voidet. But where did Roost come from? She’d never heard of him before. Usually, when a perryta or even a freelancer reached the status of power the likes of which Roost was displaying, the people in Gale Marsht tried their best to keep on his good side.


There were too many instances, Voidet had told Tuette long ago, where Cafeglian Dormaset had sent Welcore Guardsmen to dispatch of maniacs like Roost.


That only made Tuette have more questions. Why is the king performing this quest? Why isn’t Dormaset doing anything about it?


A dread thought revealed itself: what if Dormaset had been secretly “taken care of”, in borrowing a phrase that Sylvester liked to use when referring to the dirty work of killing a ruffian?


The idea didn’t seem unlikely, and it actually seemed to fit as long as Tuette believed herself to being manipulated into accompanying the king on his arduous journey. As a Freezer from a Freezing Clan, no less! She thought over the last few days and decided that Sylvester had already deduced that the clanswoman title had been a sham. How could he not? She behaved nothing like a Freezer. It was that or he didn’t worry.


Or he had forgotten that she was supposed to be a Freezer. Just because she clutched the Freezing Pote every now and then didn’t actually mean she was trying too hard to insure that everyone believed her. It was settled then: as soon as she was out of danger, she would reveal that she wasn’t a Freezer. And maybe even tell him and the Guards that she was Cursed.


A display of my Curse might be requested.


But maybe I don’t have to tell them all I’m Cursed she thought while simultaneously thinking of how big the swan-hair was, since an aspect of the Curse made sure that she couldn’t cut her hair.


Having settled the notion, Tuette decided that since the frog-house was in a prone position, she might as well chance napping at least. She needed her sleep.





*          ~          *          ~          *





The frog leaped again, resettling itself on the cliff. The situation marveled Tuette, who was groggily coming out of her bout of sleep. How long have I been asleep? Assuming the frog had returned to the same location – for what purpose, she couldn’t deduce – the cloud cover from earlier was gone and the moon was roughly past the zenith. Perhaps… a couple hours after midnight?


Tuette groaned.


Then, with a sadness that descended from nowhere, she realized that Ed could’ve told her her full name. She didn’t realize it at the time and she didn’t understand why the thought was bubbling up in this moment, but she felt like it was a missed opportunity. The familial logos obviously etched into Sylvester’s soles would only be a decorative first letter, a large D, but that could stand for anything. And she didn’t want to have to resort to asking the king what the name of the man who created his footwear was.


Odds are he doesn’t know anyway.


Putting that out of her mind, she attempted to focus again on sleeping, even though the nearly-vertical stance was rather awkward for Tuette. The bedclothes, sticky through Magik, insured that she wouldn’t fall, though that didn’t exactly keep her at ease. She was even becoming queasy from the frog-home’s sudden movements. Why did it leave the water? Why’s it on the plateau’s side?


Her thoughts drifted to the others as she wondered about their safety.


Dermy could handle himself. The Guards too.


King Sylvester is another matter.


He wasn’t sure he was protected through the kingstone, so he was possibly at risk. And he was foolhardy enough to take the dangerous risks. What is he trying to prove? Why did he bother leaving the mountain if he knew he wasn’t one hundred percent protected? Did he assume a pair of Gousheralls was going to be enough to stop someone determined enough to kill the monarch?


Tuette found herself feeling sorry for the man. She knew that his father had died roughly a decade ago and that Sylvester had essentially been thrust upon the throne. And that the malignant Malforcrent pretty much acted as the governing body that Sylvester answered to. Thinking along those lines, she was getting a hint of why he had left the mountain. Who wants to stay in a place where you’re told you have power and realize, late in the game, that you have none?


Yes, Tuette felt—


The frog shifted its weight, repositioning it’s stance for some reason. Tuette’s attention was drawn to the windows that served as the animal’s eyes.


Something moved against the starry night, seen somewhat through the eye-windows above.


At first, Tuette thought it was a bug flying relatively close by that couldn’t get into the window like the water hadn’t been able to: because of the Magik. Then she realized that the creature was actually far away.


As she was shifted through the large bed’s linens to rest against one side of the bed, she realized that whatever it was, the frog intended to snap at it and bring it into itself.


Too her horror, Tuette realized exactly what the creature was and knew she could do nothing to stop the frog from sending its tongue out; only hope and pray that the other animal didn’t have a chance at getting her.


Because it was, indeed, another animal and more:


The frog’s flying morsel was none other than a night dragon.


In a second, she was being held to the bed by the barest of blankets while the rest of the bedclothes impossibly shot out, stretched to their limits, and stuck wholly against the night dragon in the immediately distance. She saw the animal begin to writhe about even during the trip into the frog.


And with as little grace as possible, it zipped towards the open maw, a cool breeze coming in its wake, growling and possibly shouting swears. Tuette saw the animal strike its head against the bedpost furthest from her, knocking the animal out cold. Still, she couldn’t help but feel terrified. The beast was massive, taller than the bed from head to toe, excluding its powerful tail and lengthy wings.


Tuette knew her level of trouble had just escalated because, should the night dragon come around with a strong sense of consciousness, it could easily tear through the frog-home’s tongue-linens and eat her straight away.


Whatever grogginess she had felt only minutes ago was suddenly gone, vanquished by the presence of the terrible dragon. She deeply prayed that that was all that would end up being vanquished.





*          ~          *          ~          *





Like most good apprentices, Tuette had learned the basics of night dragons, starting with sketches of the dread animals.


Of course, she knew it wasn’t fair to say that they were animals because in truth, they were Cursed humans. Unable to recall the exact passage that detailed the Night Dragon Curse, Tuette did recognize that they partially resembled a standing man. Their arms and legs, though flexible, did basically look like a human’s. The resemblance was easily foiled once the wings and lengthy tail were spied. And, of course, the lizard-like snout that housed a healthy set of wicked teeth.


The most peculiar feature of a night dragon’s mouth, Tuette presently noted while staring at the unconscious dragon, was the incredibly long spike of a tooth that extended from the front and center of the upper jaw and fit perfectly into a corresponding hole in the lower jaw. It was believed that what drew a night dragon to eat was the innate desire to keep the spike-tooth wrapped in warm flesh as the creature itself was nothing but sinew and cool muscles.


What made a night dragon most dangerous, of course, were the scales. They were impenetrable to even the strongest of blades or arrowheads. The scales made the night dragons almost impossible to kill. And they didn’t die of old age either, as they didn’t age at all: being derived from Demonic death dragons originally, they were destined to live forever.


If one could be killed, that only meant that any who were infected by that particular dragon’s Curse would revert to their human selves, but no known cases had ever been documented regarding a night dragon’s corpse just showing up. They were essentially unkillable and they knew it.


And since they lived long lives, they also grew more intelligent over time.


Tuette had only seen them from a distance. Back in New Opal, a small group would migrate over the moonlit skies during the spring season. This had played a small a part in sparking her curiosity for the Magik arts. They shed their scales during those migratory trips, though Tuette couldn’t wonder or remember why. It seemed like she was forgetting something else.


She did know that she wouldn’t dare take her eyes of the creature.


It was during her extended stay, here on the plateau’s wall, sharing a bed with a night dragon, that she felt her wrist begin to warm. She thought it was the beginnings of an itch but realized that it was merely her Comgem bracelet.


Tuette’s heart raced. She had realized over the course of the last few days that she wore it but mostly didn’t think about it. It was made of lightweight, forgettable substance. But now it was warming, after she had put it on days and days ago in hopes that she would receive contact or that she might muster up the courage to make contact.


Dermy was finally calling her.


Or Sylvester.


It had been four days ago when he had been rummaging through Dermy’s effects and came across his ring that was linked to her bracelet. In attempting to contact someone named Penson, Sylvester had revealed that Dermy still kept hold of his Comgem. Of course, the conversation that followed between her and the king had been most unpleasant, but it had started with a positive note.


Tuette was confined to the bed by the frog’s innate desire to try and digesting her, but she wasn’t wholly imprisoned. She could still shift her weight around and move her hands. The night dragon actually had more of the linens allocated to hold it down, despite its lack of movement. As such, Tuette was free to rub her Comgem and open the link.


“—ette? Tuette, are you—“ It was Sylvester then, and his voice sounded impossibly loud inside the frog-shaped home. She kept an eye on the dragon though, ever wary of the possibility that the voices might wake it.


“I’m here. I’m here.” She breathed a sigh of relief as she didn’t have to ask if they were all okay: it was Dermy’s ring and Sylvester as speaking. And the Gousheralls never left the king’s sight, unless they were checking out safety precautions. “Where are you guys? And please keep it quiet!” She was whispering harshly now because the dragon’s lip began to twitch. She instantly wondered at its age as that would denote its intelligence.


“Keep quiet? Are you in danger?” Could he be any louder?


“Just… Where are you? Are you in the Seagulf Islands?” She hadn’t truly known what to ask. At least this way, she’d get a direct answer about the king’s commitment to Reversing the Curse. Or at least to her well being.


“What? Of course not!” The dragon twitched again. “We’re in Accordia. We came up against a wall. Literally.”


“A wall? Like, for a structure?”


“No, a large, black wall. It’s dividing the town. We’ve realized that the other Stone in the Ring must be on the other side of the wall.”


Oh dack. If that was the case, how would they get over the wall? Maybe they could swim through the swamps, or travel the length of it? Maybe employ one of the frog-homes to merely jump over it? That would imply she knew where the Accordians were, and she didn’t. “Is anyone else down there with you?”


“Down here? Where are you, on top of the wall?”


She briefly explained her situation with the plateau but decided to omit the part about the night dragon because that would just cause them alarm. And then they’d get loud and she’d have to break the connection with hopes that the night dragon hadn’t already been stirred. Still, the creature slept but its head began to twitch more every now and then. In turn, they explained how there were many frog-homes hopping about and how it was affecting the swamp’s water level. And how it seemed to happen often enough to leave telling stains.


“If that’s the case,” she finally said, “the Accordians might leave town when they think this event may come about. If there’s a wall to the west, swamps to the south, and this plateau in the east, they can only travel north.” She shook her head, more out of reflex than anything. “Whoever built that wall really screwed the eastern half of Accordia. They’re essentially trapped. And if they ever come under attack by some other warring town or even a group of Biijwen Nomads, they’ll be easily wiped out with nowhere to go.”


“So do you think the Accordians can help us?”


She bit her lip. Why would the Accordians bring their own frog homes to life? And who would build such a wall? It didn’t make any sense. Unless someone on the other side of the wall was doing it. That answer would depend on how long the wall had been up and if it was of mutual construction.


No, it didn’t make sense to assume the Accordians did this on an annual basis. And if they couldn’t cross the wall, they could only go north. “Maybe,” she finally spit out. The noise seemed to make the dragon gently close its jaws. “If you can’t find them in the town, they’re most likely north of it, in the fields. Camping out or… something, I don’t know.” She hated admitting such a thing but it wouldn’t help to conjecture while the overall situation was entirely too bizarre.


The frog leaped again, leaving Tuette feel like she might vomit.


This time, it landed on level ground, out of the swamps, possibly even in a spot that it was meant for. The desire to retch was accompanied further by a reminder that she hadn’t eaten for quite some time. Ed had sent them off with some food in their stomachs, but not much. If the others had found meals during their overnight raid of Accordian dwellings, they hadn’t shared the information.


The night dragon stirred.


Tuette realized that she was only out of secondary danger with the frog-home remaining on the plateau wall. The more immediate threat, the night dragon, was now also becoming more of a viable threat. She could see its tail hanging off the other side of the bed as it began to swing about in large circles.


“Tuette,” came Sylvester’s voice from her wrist. “Was that last thud you? It was loud, like it was jumping from a high point.”


“Yeah, that’s me.” She groaned, her neck feeling sore from so many leaps. “It can’t seem to make non-rough landings.”


“We’re coming to get you.”


“No,” she said, instantly wary of the night dragon seeing even more tempting morsels in the king and the others. “Go find the Accordians. They should be in the fields. Brill rises soon, right?”


There was a pause. “What?”


“Brill. The sun. Sunrise is soon, right?” She wished she didn’t sound so irritated, but who didn’t know the sun’s name?


There was another pause and then Tuette heard some distant murmurs. “Yes, in an hour or so.” He paused again and Tuette imagined him gazing into the sky like he had lost a fishing sail and didn’t know where to look. “Um, in about an hour or so.”


“Okay, find them. The frog-home should stay still now. It knows the Spell will end soon, or it should. And it knows that it would destroy itself if it remained on a vertical surface. I’ll catch up with you in the fields,” she said, hoping that was true.


Tuette’s earlier idea flashed across her thoughts: the one where she could Curse one of the men with Truth to deduce if she had, in fact, discovered part of the plot. She realized, yet again, that she probably already should’ve done it. They could’ve gotten further along in their journey. But doing so would reveal her Cursed status. And she still wasn’t sure if, when it came to long-distance scenarios, the Curse made the Truth happen or if the words produced were stirred in a Truthful direction.


Time passed in a way that made her sleepy, yet alert. The dragon seemed to only become more alert. Tuette wondered how it had taken such a blow to the skull and survived. She knew the answer though: they were tough creatures, with tougher scales.


Without thinking about it or really wanting to, Tuette began to doze. It wasn’t deliberate but she couldn’t help it. She instantly wished she had a Refreshment Pote. At least she’d be wary for the next hour or so. But she didn’t, and dreamlike images began to dance through her mind.





*          ~          *          ~          *





In no time at all, she was awakened by a strange sound. The image that came to mind first was her tearing her skirt when she mounted her splint. With a frown, she tried to remember when she last rode that splint. The rip continued and her vision swam, blurry at the edges. She was soon going to expose more worldy parts of her anatomy to sunlight and display her Curse in a lude manner! Tuette hurriedly moved her hands down to hold the ripped seam, but her hands were bound tight against her torso.


Another rip sounded and Tuette, with her head energies aligning properly, realized what the dread sound was: the night dragon was trying to cut through its bonds. The small rips must’ve made the frog-home clench its tongue, accounting for her limited movement. Instantly, she regretted sending Terry and the others to the fields when she should’ve admitted, outright, that she might not be able to handle such a deadly creature.


Unseen through the rumpled mass of blankets, Tuette heard a snort. Her heartbeat compounded. The night dragon must’ve heard it. How can he not! It felt deafening to her.


Tuette screamed, the sound almost overriding the tearing sound the dragon was making when ripping its claws through the tongue-blankets.


They were both finally jolted, the movement stifling the night dragon for a moment or two. With a sickening realization, the frog-home landed back in a vertical position. Tuette could only wonder why it had the sick fixation to remain off the ground like this. Is this frog’s spirit dredged up from a dead frog that committed suicide?


But she realized that it was on the black stone wall this time and not the plateau’s. Suddenly, Tuette was fearful for her life and more than just from the night dragon’s menacing direction. If the frog-home’s Life Spell broke at sunset, like she suspected it would, then she and the dragon would plummet. And probably not unharmed. Most likely, the house would crumble around them or on them, crushing them under a mass of debris.


Tuette didn’t enjoy the thought. And, through the same eye-windows as before, she could see the sky lightening too quickly for her to think about enjoying the natural beauty of a sun rising. Instead, she could only think of her Potential demise.


The frog chose to stay in this position. Its natural survival instincts should’ve told it to land in a safer position, possibly even the original one that it was built upon. That didn’t make sense though because her swan-home never insisted on returning to its point of origins. Tuette realized then that the night dragon was attempting to maneuver against her but the reflexes of the tongue-blankets kept it more restricted than before. The pain caused the frog to leap! She knew the Magik of the Life Spell made the frog-home almost real. It’s reacting as if it’s just had its tongue cut to ribbons!


As soon as she came on that realization, Tuette began trying to cause as much pain as the dragon did, watching and listening to the creature snarl in her peripheral and letting that motivate her more than nothing. Surprisingly, the blankets were easy to tear: the Magik itself didn’t preserve the material, just animated it.


With each tear, the frog shifted its weight. Dermy had said that he had managed to get deposited easy enough but Tuette imagined that with two treats inside, this frog wasn’t going to be so quick to let go of its meal, no matter how much it couldn’t enjoy it in the end.


The dragon snarled again, snapping its jaws with a localized chomp. Tuette saw the tooth spike tear through the blankets and everything inside the frog began to vibrate, though it wasn’t much. Tuette finally noticed that there were sparse materials in the house, probably a precaution of the Accordians as they knew their giant frogs would be hopping around for a while. After the dragon let go, the frog leaped again, this time a considerable distance… towards the north. It had been some time since she had talked to Terry, Sylvester and the others, she couldn’t guess how long, but she suddenly feared that the frog might crush them. That fear coupled with her stomach becoming physically displaced once again finally caused Tuette to purge her stomach’s contents.


Most of it sailed through the air to land on the ceiling while some stuck to her chin. She tried wiping it away but the frog was tensing its tongue during the impromptu flight again. It then reverted to a horizontal stance and… she saw the sun peak over the horizon and land with a gentle yet damning touch on the false creature’s hide.


Tuette knew the blankets and her hood were covering most of her body hair from view, but she knew she would feel better when she wasn’t being imprisoned.


With a sick realization, she discovered that she wasn’t anymore, not with the frog-shaped home back to being a simple home.


With her freedom came the night dragon’s.


Tuette looked at the beast. It was flopped over the side of the bed, its back to her. She finally got a glimpse of its wings, folded up in a very compact manner against its shoulder blades. Tuette had actually hoped that the frog’s tongue had snatched too quickly, maybe damaging one of the wings on impact.


Without examining the beast any further, Tuette exited the Magiked bed-prison, thankful to be rid of her dangerous bedfellow. Her movement rippled subtly through the padding and the night dragon snapped its head back up, looking around and sniffing madly. In less then a second, it spotted her and prepared to leap—


When it suddenly began to hiss and scratch at its face. Tuette, standing firm due to paralyzing fear rather than actual heroics, saw what had caused it. Looking at the ceiling and thankful that she had gotten sick: the vomit up there had finally detached itself to land squarely in the animal’s eyes. She didn’t want to think of it as an animal but she couldn’t help it; it thrashed about wildly, as if losing control of its body.


The night dragon then yelled and she knew she wasn’t dealing with a young creature. “Yooo flicking bitch!” it shouted, distantly reminding Tuette of the seleagles.


Not wanting to waste anymore time, Tuette ran.


She prayed to Valtos to remember what it was that she was forgetting about the Cursed beasts. It might ultimately save her. Or, if she made the wrong move, destroy her.


The entrance was not barred. She easily forced her way through. The night dragon was still thrashing about in the room as she absently tightened her hood about herself. The door, after passing through it, fell off its hinges. It had apparently had one too many leaps to deal with. Does this happen to all the frog-shaped homes? No time to find out. Not yet.


Tuette ran, bunching her skirts in one hand and holding down her hood with the other. She didn’t dare look back.


And suddenly, as she crested a hillock a short distance away, there was Terry. And Sylvester. And… it looked like everyone! And not just the four she knew, but probably every Accordian, out there in the fields like she had guessed.


But the night dragon was still on her tail. She knew it.


Looking back finally, she saw… nothing.


“Tuette,” said Sylvester and she instantly felt like throwing her arms around him, hugging him fiercely and not caring that he smelled like a feral fig. But she didn’t. Any moment, he would say something that would remind her just how inept he was during most instances of his life. And how sorry she felt for it. He continued though. “You’re here! We were worr—“


“There’s a night dragon. Dermy. Back there.”


He seized up for a second, looked where she was pointing, and did nothing. Of course, he couldn’t see it, and that would account for his reaction. She looked back once again and saw the frog-shaped home. It looked… innocent. The front entry was cut into the frog’s lower lip. The windows looked lifeless. It appeared wholly benign. But it had caused so many problems.


And it had abducted a night dragon.


Dermy recognizes the danger. He tensed at my mentioning the dread beast! “It’s not right behind me. It’s in the house. Inside.”


Dermy did nothing but shrug. He shrugged?! “So? It’s trap’, then, oh.”


“It’s…” and then she felt like she had been smacked in the face, forgetting the most fundamental principle of night dragons. It was why they were called night dragons.


They can’t live under the watchful eye of Brill. That’s why they fly by night!


Tuette started laughing. And crying. And she felt her shoulders sob uncontrollably. And her stomach hurt, reminding her that she desperately needed to eat.


“What’s a night dragon?” That was Sylvester, always asking the dumb… No. It wasn’t a dumb question, but one that he regrettably has to ask. Has his ancestors encountered such a threat? They must have. But he still wouldn’t know that the question was unnecessary.


She didn’t feel like explaining the whole of it though, so she simply said, “A black-scaled beast that can only fly at night. They will kill you or turn you without hesitance.”


Sylvester frowned, looking a little shaken, probably because he had just been told that such a creature was nearby. And she hadn’t mentioned the part about the sun. “Turn you? How?”


“’urn ya inta on’ o’ dem, oh. Dang’rous killas they’n be.” Dermy then licked his lips. Tuette couldn’t recall if Dermy had every encountered one but she was thankful to have him right here, right now, as he could help with educating the king and his Guards.


“But,” and she actually giggled. “But, they can’t come out during the day. They can’t be exposed to the sun. It hurts them. And eventually will kill them.”


Sylvester scrunched his face, looking comical. “How peculiar. Did the frog eat it?” She nodded, looking at the still distant Accordians. “Or rather, it snapped it up, like the one that got Dermy.” She nodded again, seeing that some people had baskets with them. And in baskets, there were usually provisions, like food.


Then the king said, “And it doesn’t like sunlight. Like you.”


That drew her attention and her hunger was temporarily forgotten.


“What?” she asked, immediately thinking how Dermy might’ve blabbed her truth.


“I just noticed that you always wear that hood. And the lengthier clothes. Like you’re afraid of the sun. Or maybe sunburns. I don’t know.” He shrugged and Tuette realized they Dermy hadn’t revealed anything. Sylvester was just that observant. A trait that usually comes from sitting by and letting other people run the show.


Tuette felt like stating as much but knew it’d be a low-strike against the king and she didn’t want to start any verbal dispute. “Yeah,” she finally said. “The sunburns.” She smiled tightly but didn’t hold it. “Can’t stand ‘em.”


“I understand. When I was younger…” He then started off on some nonsense story that ended more briefly than it should’ve. “So the sun has trapped it in that home?”


A trio of persons was approaching the group, two women and a man. They also carried a basked and some folded blankets. The women looked bedraggled and Tuette instantly wondered how such people bathed. The frog-home that held her all night didn’t contain an ice block holster. She thought she would ask Dermy later, or just investigate one of the homes herself.


The three stopped on the top of the knoll that Tuette had climbed minutes before. “Our home!” exclaimed the younger woman. Tuette would’ve pegged her at being in her late teens or early twenties but the manner of her expression dictated a more youthful demeanor.


“Sir,” began Sylvester while talking to the new man. “I am Sylvester, King of Decennia. We were wondering about, well… What’s been going on here?”


Tuette was mildly surprised by the question. She assumed he would ask the man about how they were to get to the next Stone.


The man introduced himself as Herb Tee and said, with a resigned tone, “This is the third year it’s happened.” He then went on to explain how, a little over three years ago, the Accordians have been having disputes over the swamps. Some said they wanted to pull back on capturing so many frogs to be used by Mages – in Accordia but mostly elsewhere. And some, mainly the non-Magikals, said they should exploit the swamps to their fullest extent and then pull up stakes and move to a swamp that was rumored to be roughly one hundred and eighty clicks to the north, in central Serres Mor. The Magikals, upset with the rest of the Accordians, had a fit and forcibly segregated the town. The eastern side was where the non-Magikals were told to live and the western side was for the Magikals.


But not everyone was happy with it and when ordinary folk were discovered on the western side of town, the Mages became angry. Gilly Tee, Herb’s wife, explained that the Magikals insisted they be allowed to build a barrier. Without further explanation, Tuette realized that was where the wall had come from. But she still didn’t recognize the material.


A snarl was heard from the distance, coming from the Tee’s house. It brought the local history lesson to a brief pause and reminded Tuette of the night dragon. He was trapped inside, at least until Brill was on the other side of the home. At that point, it could sulk in the shadows produced by the structure. She immediately felt terrible for bringing the dragon into these people’s lives, still knowing that she wasn’t directly responsible exactly. But she knew she could’ve tried harder to destroy it. Or at least to distract the frog from snatching up the dragon.


The third woman, the Tee’s daughter named Cherry, stepped forward, apparently drawn to the snarls heard from her home. She brushed past Tuette before she decided to stop the younger woman. “Whoa,” said Tuette. “You can’t be goin’ in there. The night dragon is too dangerous.”


Cherry looked directly into Tuette’s eyes and the Cursed woman wondered if the younger woman was slightly stupid. Her eyes looked a little vacant, like she was permanently looking just over Tuette’s left shoulder. “What’s that?”


Tuette instantly felt like looking over her own shoulder to see if Cherry was asking about something behind the sorceress but realized that she was asking about the night dragon. “It’s something that can kill you.” Cherry eyes widened slightly, but not by much, making Tuette wonder how often she was truly put into any danger.


She then wondered about something else: Cherry had stated that the frog-home belonged to all of them, but with only one bed big enough to accommodate two full grown adults – or one adult and one slightly larger night dragon – that didn’t leave a lot of room for Cherry to sleep. Again, she’d have to find the answer later.


A shadow from above landed on them and Tuette instantly thought a flock of birds was flying overhead. Looking up, a sense of dread took her heart as she saw a length of thin clouds in the sky bleed from the lip of the plateau and nearly cross the gap to the black wall.


The night dragon, which must’ve been pacing just inside the front door, leaped out and headed directly for them all. The tooth spike gleamed with salivation.


Cherry didn’t scream or even flinch.


Tuette tensed but didn’t think she could move.


Everyone else behind the pair of women was forgotten. Maybe forever.


The night dragon was nearly leaping, keeping its wings folded so the wind didn’t drag at its sleek form. Tuette hadn’t realized she had covered so much ground in such a little time. With a couple dozen meters to go, the cloud cover over them disappeared and Tuette never felt so thankful to be bathed in sunlight.


The dragon wasn’t so fortunate. The rays gleamed against its scaly hide and it snarled, writhing in pain as the clouds still covered the beast, but in an inconsistent manner. When a more protective cloud remained just for the night dragon, it found its balance, swore in a toothy dialect, and took off in the opposite direction, where the clouds hovered like a deadly halo.


In moments, it was past the Tee’s house and flying towards the plateau. Tuette wondered why it hadn’t headed towards the lip of the wall as the clouds were traveling in that direction. She then realized it was probably fearful of the Magikals. She was one herself but she didn’t have the measures for taking care of a night dragon. And it was true that they couldn’t be easily killed, but with Magik, they could be sufficiently deterred and filled with fearful respect.


Does it roost somewhere on the other side of the plateau? This was probably an ample hunting ground now that half of the Accordians were defenseless against such threats. Yet another problem caused by that damned wall, which only made Tuette pause with greater concern. Magikals reportedly erected the wall. Looking behind her briefly, seeing the Accordians coming out of their fear-inspired stupors, she saw the wall continued for a good distance. Maybe as much as a kilometer or two.


But this was a localized problem that would have to be handled at a later date. Currently, Tuette knew she had to assist in getting the king to Count Roost. Or she might even go there alone. Not for the first time, that idea wrapped around her bones and felt… non-conflictive.


No, a maniac like Roost will have to be handled by a Magikal touch with some muscle backing it. I only have the Magik. Tuette knew that Sylvester and his Guards would have to provide the muscle. The Accordians, who had apparently camped in small clumps around the fields, were gathering there items. None carried a large amount and Tuette deduced that the knickknacks that might’ve remained in the frog-home had been stored inside another.


Dermy looked very sad, his arm held close to his chest. Tuette sighed, pursing her lips. In his guise, he had one broken arm and in his true form, the other was probably broken. He can’t win. She still didn’t understand why he insisted on disguising himself. Does he want to appear ineffective towards any potential enemies? That might be the only reason, she decided. Otherwise, now with his Magiked arm broken, he was almost the same, except it was still difficult to understand his speech.


The nearest Accordians began the slow hike back to their town, the annual event having subsided and the immediate dangers gone. She was still worried about the night dragon but couldn’t understand why. The Cursed beast was surely well away right now. No creature that had to live under such constrictions would be foolish enough to attack. Still, something lingered…


Cherry started forward once more, into the darkness provided by the clouds. Sylvester stepped up to Tuette’s side. “W-Was that the dagon? The night dagon?”


“Night dragon. And yes, it was.”


Cherry stopped and looked down where the beast had writhed about in pain. She then bent over and begin picking through something on the ground. Tuette moved forward then, curious about what she was looking at, mindful that sooner or later, she’d have to Curse one of the guys to learn the Truth about Roost.


Herb arrived at Cherry’s side first, having jogged quickly past Tuette. “Piddle, what’re you doing? What do you have there? Let me see, now.”


Tuette finally came up and the other fact concerning night dragons finally hit her. Dermy would’ve remembered, obviously, but he was too wrapped up in his own damaged pride to be of any use. In Cherry’s hands were a few night dragon scales. They were shiny but didn’t reflect. Instead, they swallowed any image that fell upon them.


Tuette instantly hit Cherry’s hand, knocking the scales to the ground and making sure none had gotten tangled into first her own skirt and then Cherry’s. “Wha…?” began Cherry, sounding like she might’ve been struck for cleaning her clothes. “But they’re pretty!”


Shaking her head, Tuette said, “Yes, they are, but they’re dangerous!”


“Dangerous how?” asked Herb, making a fist. Is he going to strike me?


“If you have one on your person, you could—“


Herb Tee than doubled over and sounded like he was trying to toss his insides out for all to see. He then began to scream while going fetal and Tuette realized too late what was happening. In asking to see what Cherry had picked up, he had taken one as well and that was what was clutched in his palm.


Cherry and Tuette instantly backed away but Gilly ran forward. Her husband knocked her backward, his skin becoming pebbled in places. What thin, blondish hair he had fell out quickly, resting limply on the ground near his knees. Tuette stopped Gilly. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?!”


Tuette didn’t know how to say it. The scene was too horrific and she knew she would never forget it, silently hoping that she never had to see another like it.


As Herb screamed, clutching his stomach, two bulges tore violently through the back of his shirt. They were wings, black as the nearby wall and flecked in blood and bone. Herb tried reaching around to grab at them and only ended up rubbing the top of his head, putting a few scratches there with his lengthened fingernail.


A black and scaly tail finally broke through his trousers to lie limply on the ground. Herb Tee then fell forward to scream and moan into the dirt.


Dermy had stepped up then, looking at the scene as calmly as only a Magiked disguise could perform. “He bein’ a nigh’ ‘ragon now. Oh.” Tuette couldn’t have put it any other way. Gilly began to sob, losing her footing and leaning completely on Tuette.


Cherry looked on dispassionately. Does she even understand? Maybe. Maybe not.


Tuette couldn’t look anymore. She turned away, bringing Gilly with her. Dermy stood near Cherry. Herb had stifled his moans, the worst of his pain gone. In no time—


As if cued by her thoughts, a shriek was heard from the ground. Tuette had to look back. Gilly only sobbed. Running like a newborn nit straight out of the womb, Herb Tee, as a uncoordinated night dragon, bolted towards his frog-home with smoke trailing him as Brill looked on unkindly, uncaringly. The sight made Tuette feel sickened, especially as Herb’s wings were flopping about wildly, as if he couldn’t control them.


The other Accordians stared on in amazement, or disgust, or wonder.


Tuette couldn’t help but feel totally responsible.


I should’ve remembered how the Curse was passed on. I should’ve known!


After a short while, with the aid of additional cloud cover, Herb Tee scrambled from his home and headed in the direction of the other night dragon. Gilly gasped at the movement, silently sobbing into weathered hands. Cherry remained quiet and Tuette began to seriously question the alignment of the girl’s head energies.


Does she not realize that her father has just essentially died?


*          ~          *          ~          *





It was a long time before Gilly calmed down, but the rest of the Accordians didn’t. They viewed the situation as yet another example of why the large wall was a good thing: it kept vicious Magiks away from their town and their lives. Tuette couldn’t help but see the hypocrisy. This half of Accordia wanted to increase the capture of swamp frogs to undoubtedly be used by Mages elsewhere. Their economy is almost rigidly based on Magik!


But she didn’t say anything. Porlyen, the town’s acting mayor, made it clear that it would be best if Tuette and the others left Cordia, as he had called it. “We’ve been Magik free, ‘cept the annual Life Spell events, for three years. And now this,” he said while gesturing to the spot where Herb Tee had forcibly ejected his clothing. The five travelers had been forced to stay there, along with the remaining Tee women. “So it’s best if you left now and let the rest of us get on with our lives.” He then looked into Sylvester’s face. “I’m not meaning to sound disrespectful, King, sir, but you’re companion has brought a bit too much trouble for us to cope with.”


Sylvester looked like he didn’t know what to say. Finally, he blurted out something. “We don’t wish to stay here any longer either. We just need to get to the other Stone. In the Ring. But it’s on the other side of the wall, is it not?”


Porlyen nodded. “We don’t usually get much travelers across the Ring these days. Mainly because of the wall. But also because it’s dangerous. Last year, we found a body one morning. Tossed from the Stone. Slammed into the black wall itself. Broke his neck.” The mayor shook his head. “Was a young one, too.”


Tuette gulped, feeling dizzy. She had come singly as well. She had understood the risks though. Had the boy? Where’d he come form? Ed hadn’t mentioned anything about such an incident. No one will ever travel with Ed and the fear of dying is what keeps him from going through the Ring alone. But surely he might try the other Stone near Mokel? It actually occurred to Tuette that they might have to traverse back that way and come through the other Stone. Odd were that they wouldn’t end up in Ac, as Porlyen had unimaginatively called it, but maybe even directly on one of the Seagulf Islands.


She put the suggestion first to Sylvester, since it seemed like the mayor wanted only to deal with him. If only he knew of the monarch’s Magik roots.


Sylvester, talking to Porlyen, relayed the idea. Porlyen considered as it meant the foreigners would have to go back into the town if only for a short while. In a short while, though, they were walking back towards Cordia. Terry and Vest were wary of their surroundings though. Tuette imagined that the night dragon had put them on their guard, so to speak. It was most likely the first time they had encountered such a monster. Terry especially looked shaken, his face having developed a fare amount of scruff though not as much as most men might accumulate over a series of razorless days. Tuette made the mental note to try and comfort him later.





*          ~          *          ~          *





Back in Cordia, people were resettling into the town. By day, it looked extremely mundane, which was probably how the people liked it. The roadways were muddy though and many small frogs and toads hopped about in such a way that Tuette was almost fearful she would crush a few on accident. Or that they would jump up her skirt.


Gilly and Cherry left the others and entered a humble looking shelter. Tuette felt sorry for the mother because whatever Herb Tee did to help make the family unit function, Gilly was all alone to care for her decidedly beautiful but otherwise dull daughter.


At the Stone, Porlyen gave them no time to organize themselves. He didn’t even offer a meal. Tuette felt resigned to the notion and decided they could forage for food near Mokel or even return to Ed. But that was all going to take time. The Curse of the Thumb would be realizing itself soon, in a matter of days, and they were stuck following the orders of smalltime town folk.


Tuette instantly wished for a stronger figure in Sylvester. Had he inflicted his crowning status on the Cordians, they might be made to appear more accommodating. She thought back to Jirra and Yuka, thinking how one half of that pair had been deceitful while both were highly helpful with the king’s comfort.


Perhaps that’s it. With a level of deceit, with a notion that you don’t want to be discovered, you hide that unpleasant truth behind a pleasant façade. She herself had the Curse of the Hood to keep hidden for however long it took, but she still didn’t feel like she had to put on a show to please those around her. But that was due to her own personal experiences.


Either these people were like her and didn’t care to be blunt with their demands or they had nothing to hide and therefore felt they didn’t owe anything to anybody, not even the king.


They were stationed around the Stone, all with hands upon it, except Dermy who still had not been healed and only rested one hand. She decided that when they got to the other Stone, she would apply the Healing Pote as best she could, though she wasn’t sure how it would interact with a Magik disguise. Should I do it before we leave? He could be damaged even more when we land. “Porlyen, I think I should at least try and put a Pote on my friend’s arm. The trip could cause more—“


“No!” he barked, which was chorused by one or two other people. Looking around, Tuette saw that a small crowd had gathered to see them off. Some still held their baskets and blankets, having come straight with their mayor to show support.


“Okay, okay,” she said silently, glowering a little at Sylvester for not backing her up. Dermy was, after all, under his employ but that didn’t matter, she guessed. “I guess he’ll be fine until we get there.” She looked at Dermy then and he smiled brightly, but his eyes looked very pained. Why hasn’t the king thought to help Dermy before this? She decided she’d ask later.


She put her hands back against the Stone as they had come away from it during her question, and her mind went blank as to what the activation line was. “What’s the… the line?” Tuette asked tentatively.


Terry cleared his throat and said, “I remember! ‘Traveling far, riding the…’” He stopped. Why? Has he actually forgotten? If none remembered, they would be out of luck as the Cordians had righteously destroyed whatever sign had been present to inform would-be travelers on how to use the Ring of Ten Minus Two.


But Terry just withdrew his hands, smiling big. “It’s ‘Traveling far, riding the Ring, quicker indeed, won’t cost a thing’” He then replaced his hands, grinning too widely to actually enjoy. He had remembered and learned from Tuette’s own mistake. Porlyen looked annoyed that they were still there though.


“Okay, all,” said Tuette. “The line, on three.” She counted and they all repeated.


But nothing happened.


How anticlimactic.


Sylvester explained. “This happened after you were drawn through. We waited for a good many seconds before we were pulled through and deposited here.”


But the answer didn’t please Tuette. She realized then that she had been feeling weird ever since touching the Stone and finally understood why. The towering Stone was not cold to the touch. It wasn’t even cool. It was warm, as if bathed by Brill recently.


“Kriff,” she said, instantly looking at the king’s boots and seeing that some chicken droppings still rested on the edge of the soles.


After standing with their hands to the Stone for a better part of ten minutes, they withdrew them and were forced to stand in awkward silence. “You put yer hands up, folken!” screamed Porlyen. Other Cordians joined in the cause and Tuette wondered if they might start pelting Tuette and her companions with rocks or frogs.


“Porlyen, sir, this Stone isn’t going to take us away. We need to get to the other one.” She stepped forward, seeing a menace behind the mayor’s subtle glare. “Is there a way to cross the wall quickly? We need to advance in—“


“Silence, foul woman!”


“Now listen to me,” Sylvester said finally, drawing a shock from Porlyen. “I am the king, your king, and we are on an important quest to save all of Decennia from one little Curse. Just one. And if we can’t leave via this big Stone,” he said while jabbing at the solid monolith, “then we need another path. Can we cross the wall or not?”


Porlyen didn’t answer immediately. Sylvester set his jaw firmly. “Do I have to have Terry and Vest here show you what a Gousherall can really do?”


The uncooperative mayor suddenly decided to cooperate and Tuette felt mildly proud to be on the same side as Sylvester, even if he was using a fairly insubstantial bluff. “W-we don’t know,” he said finally. “We’ve tried climbing the wall but its slick. Some vines and stuff will grow against it, closer to the swamps, but those’ll be years before they reach the top.” He sighed. “I’m-I’m sorry that I wasn’t bein’ helpful. It’s just, since the wall went up, we’ve had it rough!” He sounded like he might start crying and Tuette wondered if Sylvester was going to break his newly found hard edge.


Sylvester sighed heavily but still managed to just look stern. “The stuff with the night dragon wasn’t our fault,” he got out, which drew a silent nod from Porlyen.


“It’s jus’,” began the mayor, “since we ‘came Cordia, the frog-catchin’ got harder, and a couple night dragons harass us every now and then, sometimes taken a kid and such, and, I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “It’s just easier to tell people to go away. All the stuff that’s been happenin’ make me feel ashamed to be these people’s leader.” He gestured to the other Cordians.


Sylvester stepped forward and clapped a hand on his shoulder. Porlyen sniffed once and his face soured at the closeness of the king. But he didn’t say anything and Sylvester didn’t notice. “I know what you mean, Porlyen. Now, show us those vines. If we can’t make something work, then we’ll have to travel around the wall and get to Ac that way.”


The thought made her heart sink. “The wall’s a couple clicks long,” said one of the bystanders, a revelation that made Tuette feel even worse. The entire length to the edge of the wall and then back along it to Ac might take a while, especially since they had no splints. Porylen explained that they only had small skiffs for catching frogs and a few carts that they hauled by hand to Di’Jokoot.


“In Di’Jokoot, their Freezers take our frogs and give us ice blocks, which we gotta bring back ourselves. It’s worth it, to have a few houses with clean and piped water at least. But most everyone bathes in the swamp or washes their clothes with Wash Stones.”


So they don’t have modes of transportation. She didn’t understand what they were to accomplish with the blasted vines and thought to say something, but decided against it. Even though more time spent here meant less time to deal with Roost when they confronted him, they still needed to eat. And Dermy’s rations weren’t going to cut it this time.


As if it was an afterthought, Vest made a suggestion. “Can we get to Ac by going north, around the plateau?”


Porlyen only shook his head. “The plateau goes longer than the wall. And there’s underground caverns that lead to the other side. But where do you think the local night dragons live?”


A shiver ran visibly through Vest as the group headed towards the swamplands. “Porlyen,” started Sylvester as they passed what might’ve been a bakery. “We don’t intend to delay our departure anymore than we have to. But could you arrange for me and my companions to be coupled with some meals? Preferably something to eat while on our feet?”


Without breaking stride, Porlyen gave commands to some nearby townsfolk. Those people immediately rushed into the bakery and weren’t seen until the small group arrived near the swamps.


Tuette didn’t recognize it as a place where her abducting frog-home had taken her because it looked totally harmless. But she knew that such lands were prone to be deceiving. The food brought to them was an interesting assortment of meats wrapped up in flat, dried plants. Tuette assumed they were lily pads, straight from the swamp, but didn’t care because it was delicious and quite filling. The others ate almost as quickly as she did and it wasn’t only because of their hunger: flies and other such bugs flitted around like they also wanted a taste.


The vines Porlyen had been talking about were actually thick and sturdy bin’vines. They normally grew against trees inside thicker swamps; the types of trees that had no bark and were therefore more difficult to cling to. Bin’vines were great for reaching new heights but these were, as Porylen said, quite shy of their ultimate goal.


Without thinking and with much practice, she pulled a hair from Terry’s head. He was the closest. He bellowed once, grabbing at his scalp. She said that she had saved him from yet another insect and he seemed grateful. As her growling stomach no longer distracted her, she was of sound mind to cast the Curse of Truth. Using the hair, she performed the small and simple ritual that would cull the desired Curse against Terry.


The only person who would notice what she was doing was Dermy and he was still in a state of self-depreciation. All the better that Terry be chosen, then. Quickly picking up a brittle twig, she then mouthed the Curse Reverse: Break this twig. Usually, a Reverse was more rigidly set as it was actually performed so the Audience Members could recognize it. But Tuette knew she didn’t ever need to do be lavish with her castings for some reason. Her Curses, though minimal compared to Roost’s and Voidet’s, always hit their target.


Dwelling for a moment more, she realized that there was even a chance that the Reverse of Freezing chickens might not even work for Sylvester. Unless the count had a ready supply of chickens for himself to Freeze when he cast the Curse, he was most likely hoping that merely stating the desired Reverse would enough. If that’s the case, it’s a good thing we decided to go after Count Roost.


“Terry,” she said, drawing his attention. “What’s the most expedient way to Ac?”


He didn’t even blink. “Over the wall.”


Tuette frowned, as did Sylvester. “Well, yes, Terry. But is that the route we should take?”


“Yes.”


“How?” asked Sylvester.


“I don’t know.”


Tuette groaned. The problem with the Curse of Truth was that it was very literal and though it could be used to find pertinent information, it could be quite frustrating to finally come across the desired answer.


“Then why did you say it?” asked Sylvester, sounding a little angrier than he otherwise should have.


Terry frowned and Dermy looked up, first at the Guard, then at Tuette. “I don’t know,” he finally said, which was true: he didn’t.


Dermy’s eyes went wide with surprise but he didn’t say anything. Long ago, Tuette had discovered that yes and no questions never left room for the Curse of Truth to trouble the subject so she decided to stick with those. “But we should go over the wall?”


“Yes.”


“Should we use the vines?”


“Yes.”


“How?” asked Sylvester, almost shouting it.


Tuette felt bad for Terry as he looked a little afraid of his master when he said, “I don’t know!” like he might start crying.


“Sylvester, King, just give me a moment. I’ll figure this out.”


“Well, what’s wrong with him?”


She felt a little cold at the question and she assumed it was only because she knew that Terry was Cursed, as she was, and that somehow meant there was something wrong with him. But Sylvester couldn’t know that so she didn’t say anything. “Nothing, I think.” Terry then frowned a little deeper, his eyes looking panicked. “Just, give me a moment. A minute.”


Sylvester scowled but quieted himself, looking away into the crowd.


In that span of time, Tuette had asked how they were to use the vines, which brought an “I don’t know” out of Terry. She confirmed that they were to use them though, twice over. She pondered silently.


“Is it someone in Cordia that can help us with this?”


“Yes.” Terry was beginning to look very frazzled, like he wanted to be alone with this thoughts but Tuette wouldn’t let him alone. Not yet.


“Terry, please focus. Can you focus?”


“It’s possible, but hard. I’m saying things but they aren’t making sense with what I want to be saying.” He swallowed. “I get to say ‘I don’t know’ when I want to but not every time.”


“I understand. I’ll explain later.”


He became red around his eyes, which began to glass over. “What’s wrong with me?” he asked.


Tuette bit her lip, knowing that she was under quite a different Curse than Terry. “I don’t know. Not yet. But we have to figure something else out first.” Terry nodded but only once. Vest was beginning to look concerned in place of the anger the king had been building up a moment before, but said nothing. “Now, it’s someone in Cordia that can help us.”


“Yes,” he said, a little too quickly.


“That wasn’t a question,” she said just as quickly, though she couldn’t wonder why he would say it. “Is it the mayor? It is Porylen?”


“No. No.”


“Someone we talked to? Maybe whoever brought us the food?”


“Yes. No.” Terry began to shed actual tears and Tuette almost gave him the twig with an order to break it, feeling wholly sorry for the young Guard. But this is important! Someone we talked to?


“Is it Herb Tee? Or Gilly?”


“No. No!”


Thankfully, Dermy kept his mouth shut. He finally recognized the necessity.


Sylvester, who had been pacing near the wall, paused, looked behind Tuette and said, “Cherry.”


Terry said “Yes!” while wiping his face and looking at Vest.


Tuette looked at Sylvester. Looking where the king was, she also saw Cherry Tee, standing silently at the edge of the sparse crowd that had formed, her face almost expressionless.


“Cherry Tee,” said Tuette, which was further acknowledged by Terry through a series of sobs. Begrudgingly, Tuette absently recalled that it was Terry who had been possessed by the Artificial. This was only furthering his negative associations of Magik.


But the Curse of Truth doesn’t falter.


Cherry Tee was to somehow help them. “Hello,” she said weakly.