“It’s a word,” Geth said without moving his lips. “But I definitely don’t trust him.”
“I don’t trust your brother, either,” Clover complained. “Did you hear what he said about sycophants? That’s the second time he’s called me a rat.”
“He was just acting,” Geth said, keeping his mouth still just in case Lars could still see down.
“Acting like a jerk,” Clover whispered harshly. “This is all wrong. We need to get out of here. I say we leave those two up in the trees, run as fast as you can, and find our way back to Foo.”
“Zale’s my brother,” Geth said. “I’m not leaving until this is done.”
“You mean until you’re dead,” Clover said. “I just know that somehow you’ll get killed and I’ll end up one of those widow people.”
“I think maybe you don’t understand the word widow,” Geth said quietly. “But we’ll leave this realm as soon as Payt is finished.”
“I don’t think you really understand the word finished,” Clover complained. “As soon as Payt is finished with what, dinner?”
“Until Payt is dead,” Geth clarified.
“So as soon as he’s dead we’ll return to Foo?”
Geth nodded.
“Promise?” Clover asked hopefully and in a whisper.
“No,” Geth replied. “But if fate allows.”
“Fate is horrible at making and keeping promises,” Clover complained. “I made a deal with fate when I was younger. It was supposed to make me taller.”
“You’re average height for a sycophant,” Geth said.
“Right,” Clover complained. “What good is average? I wanted to have at least a foot on my brothers. But did fate keep its promise?”
“I’m not sure fate’s even aware it made a promise,” Geth said out of the side of his mouth. “Did you keep your half?”
There was a long pause as Geth and Clover continued to stare up into the trees where the swing had disappeared.
“No,” Clover finally answered. “Maybe it is my fault. I tried to keep my promise, but it’s impossible to go a year without gossiping.”
“Nothing’s impossible,” Geth said.
“It was the same year my sister left home with a sycophant magician who had been engaged to an older sycophant librarian who worked for the Council of Wonder.”
“I can see why you’re still the same height, then.”
Geth spotted the bottom of the empty swing as it descended. It lowered until it was all the way down and Geth could easily take a seat.
“Keep invisible and close,” Geth said under his breath.
“There will be nobody more see-through or more nearby,” Clover assured Geth.
Geth took hold of the rope and began to pull. The swing rose almost effortlessly. There was hardly a need for any real tugging and the seat glided upward as if powered by electricity.
“This is kinda cool, I guess,” Clover said, reluctant to admit that he might be enjoying anything that had to do with Lars.
Geth nodded but didn’t reply verbally.
The swing went higher and higher, moving straight up through thick branches of multiple trees. The ride felt almost claustrophobic as they were surrounded by leaves of all sizes and shapes. A platform rose around them, and Geth could see Zale standing there by Lars.
Geth easily stepped onto the platform and moved the swing out from underneath him. The platform was made of wood and boxed in by leaves. Wooden planks ran from the platform to the side of a thick tree trunk and up to the most elaborate and finely finished tree house that Geth had ever seen. The house was taller than it was wide and was built up and around one of the tree trunks. Wooden beams beneath it helped to hold it up. Branches wove in and out through different bits of architecture on the home, and ivy covered the walls while thatch completed the roof.
“Come,” Lars waved, heading across the path toward the house. “Come on.”
Birds jumped and darted through the branches, singing songs in harmony as soft, warm sunlight filtered between the leaves and painted the scene like a serene wooded disco. For a moment things felt almost as magical and perfect as Foo.
It’s sad how fleeting a moment can be.
Chapter Seventeen
Sometimes a Chapter Heading Is Just a Chapter Heading
Doorbells are obnoxious. Whose idea was it to place a buzzer at the entrance of one’s home? Anyone in their right—or wrong—mind can simply walk up to your abode and begin demanding your attention with the aid of a bell. It’s the equivalent of driving up to someone who’s minding their own business and laying on the horn. It’s a bad approach. It’s also, in my opinion, the worst possible sneak attack. Doorbells let your enemies know you’re there and you’re in the mood to poke things. In a perfect world, there would be no doorbells. There would be only a strand of rope that visitors would have to figure out what to do with. I suggest they practice a knot or two and then move on to bother someone else. Not that I’m opposed to people, but any real friend would simply stand on the stoop silently with a gift in hand and wait patiently for me to walk out the door.
Sadly, I guess manners are just a thing of the past.
Lars pushed open the large front door. There was no doorbell, and the door was made from polished wood with flecks of glass in it. The inside of the house was even more impressive than the outside. Beautiful pieces of handmade furniture filled the room while rugs as thick as grass blanketed the floor. A stone fireplace in the corner held a tiny fire in its belly and was keeping the room a perfect temperature. The walls were covered with art and the ceiling was painted with stars and planets. Everything looked neat and well crafted.
“Wow,” Clover gasped.
Lars turned around to see who had spoken. Geth quickly opened his mouth to pretend it had been him. He coughed a couple of times and then acted speechless.
“All built by me,” Lars said. “Have a seat.”
Lars motioned to a red couch with cushions that looked like supportive clouds. Geth and Zale wrestled past each other to see who could sit down first.
“Ahh,” Zale said as his body settled into the soft couch.
“So glad you approve,” Lars said proudly. “Hungry?”
Geth and Zale looked at Lars as if they had just been asked the stupidest question ever.
“Please,” Zale begged. “I’m starving.”
Of course, what Zale was saying wasn’t too far from the truth, seeing how he had been imprisoned and poorly fed for many years.
“Delightful,” Lars said, clapping his hands. “Desperate visitors—I believe that’s the very best kind.”
Lars walked across the room and through a short doorway that led into a separate area.
“He’s odd, right?” Zale asked in a whispered hush.
“Extremely,” Geth whispered back.
“Can we be worried about it after we eat?” Zale asked.
Geth nodded enthusiastically.
Lars came back quickly, carrying a tray covered with food. He set the tray down on the small table in front of the couch. It was filled with sandwiches made from thick bread and dripping with meat and sauces. There were bowls filled with red berries that glistened under the low light of the comfortable room. A plate covered with mashed potatoes was surrounded by sprigs of green mint and topped with butter that scented the room in a wash of flavor.
Geth and Zale stared at the tray like two little kids looking at something grown-ups didn’t want them to touch.
“Please,” Lars insisted. “Dig in.”
Zale became a lithen washing machine, tossing everything into his mouth and agitating it until his palate was clean. Geth tried to show some nobility, but the smell and taste of the food were intoxicating and caused both of them to act like they were under the influence of food. Every bite was a celebration and surprise
that something could taste as good as it did.
“This food is amazing,” Geth said honestly.
“I’m glad you approve,” Lars said. “I don’t have many visitors because of the condition.”
Geth stopped chewing and looked Lars.
“Condition?” Geth asked with concern.
“You know,” Lars said. “The one I made up about the air.”
Zale didn’t want to stop chewing, so he kept at it while looking upset.
“The truth is just the opposite,” Lars said. “The air in this valley is incredible. In fact, it will make you live longer. But, I need to keep the riffraff away.”
It was one of the hardest things Geth had done in a while, but he stopped eating so as to look properly appalled.
“Don’t pretend to be bothered,” Lars said. “Self-preservation is a beautiful thing.”
Geth suddenly felt like vomiting.
“Look at me,” Lars said. “I used to live in Reality. I was a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman. I used to have an ex-wife, a repossessed car, and more bills than I knew what to do with. Then one day I’m sitting in a park thinking about how awful my life is and the next thing I know I’m here in Zendor. Of course, it wasn’t called Zendor back then, but here I was. I popped in near the forests on the other side of the realm. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I was scared—so scared. I thought I was sick or had gone crazy. Things were a bit different than now. Back then there were no boors, just dreams—hundreds of astronauts and cowboys and FBI agents and ballerinas all mixed together. There was no real order here, no leader, just a bunch of dreams living peacefully on the soil. I went a bit mad. I ran, and when I wasn’t running, I hid. My mind was so befuddled I thought I would die from confusion. I made it across the realm and found the outside of the mountains that surround this valley.”
Zale stopped eating to take a drink of some purple juice that tasted like fizzy cream.
“Your brother seems hungry,” Lars observed to Geth.
The statement was too obvious to even comment on.
“I found a cave,” Lars continued. “A small cave near the edge of Zendor. At first I entered it because I wanted to hide. But the cave kept going back farther and farther. Pretty soon I knew that if I went any farther I’d never be able to find my way out. Well, I was so confused I felt that it would be better to die going deeper than to live. So I kept moving farther and farther into the mountain. If there was a turn, I’d take it. If I came upon multiple tunnels, I wouldn’t even pause to think. I’d just take whatever one looked bleaker. I had a candle, but it ran out. So I was stuck in the middle of the mountain in pitch-black. I figured I was dead.”
“Is there more of this drink?” Zale interrupted.
Lars got up and came back with a pitcher. He filled Zale’s glass and set the pitcher down next to it. Zale couldn’t be bothered to thank him.
“You figured you were dead,” Geth reminded Lars.
“Yes,” Lars said, picking up where he had left off. “And seeing how I was going to die anyway, I thought I would just keep walking in the dark. I think I went in circles; I know I went up and down a bit; I hit my head on a low rock, all without being able to see anything. Then, I took a turn, and in the distance I could see a fleck of light. I stumbled toward it, believing it was just a messed-up hallucination from my sick brain. But the light grew bigger and brighter and I began to think I was dying and floating to the light.”
“You don’t look dead,” Zale said between bites.
“Observant,” Lars laughed. “When I stumbled into this valley, I rolled down the grass fields, drank from one of the rivers, and lay there with the sunlight covering me. I was tired, but almost instantly I began to feel stronger. There was nobody here when I arrived, but there were some scattered ruins indicating that at some point someone had lived here.”
“You don’t know who?” Geth asked.
“Nope,” Lars said arrogantly. “And I never could think of a reason to find out. See this house we’re in?” Lars asked.
Geth and Zale nodded, wondering if it were a trick question.
“I built it myself and yet I’ve never had a day of instruction in my life.”
“I’m sure there are some flaws in it somewhere,” Zale said.
“You’d think so,” Lars agreed, “but I’ve yet to find any. That food you’re eating, I not only grew it, but I prepared it. I’ve never had a day of food instruction in my life.”
“Cooking’s not that difficult,” Zale scoffed.
“And people adapt to what they need to do,” Geth added.
“Maybe a little,” Lars said. “But the truth is that whatever you do in this valley, it comes out well. Things taste better, work goes further, and people live longer. It’s not easy to die in a river that washes everyone safely to shore.”
Having finally reached a point where he could no longer stuff food into his stomach, Zale stopped eating and leaned back on the couch. He breathed in as his dark eyes flickered.
“You mean you live longer,” Zale said, as if the injustice of it all had just hit him. “You alone?”
“Of course,” Lars said. “What kind of paradise would it be surrounded by the dreams of others? I never dreamed of being an astronaut or the first female president. I dreamed of being left alone and having power over others. It looks like my dreams came true.”
“This is hardly power,” Geth argued, his blood beginning to simmer. “The power to keep people away? The power to trick others into thinking you are something other than you are?”
“Yep,” Lars said. “That’s the kind of power I have. That and the ability to destroy anyone who wishes to disagree. It beats selling vacuums.”
Geth stood up.
“Sit down,” Lars said amiably. “There’s no need for tempers to flare. I have always wanted to know more about Foo. You and your brother are my connection. I know that this realm would not exist without Foo. I also know that, as magical as this valley was before, the restoration of your realm made it even better. I want to know more. Make me smarter; fill me in.”
“No,” Geth said still standing. “It’s obvious that you feel no responsibility for the knowledge you hold. Why should I give you more? I can’t believe these dreams in Zendor consider you wise.”
“Just as I like it,” Lars said. “And who’s to say I’m not? Look where I am and look where they are.”
“No one has ever challenged your possession of this valley?” Geth asked hotly. “Every single one of those dreams could live in peace here and no one has figured that out?”
“I can’t say that nobody ever has. A few have,” Lars said. “It’s usually the ones that aren’t the result of dreams—the humans snatched from Reality. They find out about this place and find someone who will bring them here. They barge in and think they can stay. But I dispose of them.”
“So you’re a killer,” Zale said incredulously.
“I am the law,” Lars said. “And I have killed to keep things in order. Throughout my whole life in Reality, I was beaten down by the law. Now I am at peace with it, seeing as how it benefits me personally.”
“We were told you would help,” Geth growled.
“I always say that,” Lars smiled. “That’s part of the magic. I get Stone Holders to bring me those who are strong-willed enough to want to fight, promising them that I care. Then, when they arrive, I get rid of them. If you live long enough to fight here, you will eventually meet someone who will kindly suggest you visit me. I always welcome those who come . . .”
Lars paused as if for dramatic effect.
“ . . . of course, I always dispose of them as well.”
Geth looked at Zale and laughed. He looked back at Lars and his blue eyes grew stormy and electric. Clouds of emotion moved over his expression, and he pushed his long hair out of his face.
&nbs
p; “Is that a threat?” Geth asked.
“Yeah,” Zale said, strength from the food and air of the valley giving him a newfound wellness. “Was that supposed to be your big dramatic moment?”
Lars looked flustered for a brief second but quickly regained control of his emotions.
“No,” Lars said slimily. “I have the hardest time expressing myself clearly. Forgive me if you misunderstood.”
“Quite the apology,” Geth said cautiously. “It’s clear that you are not the man we were looking for. Now not only will I make it my responsibility to end Payt’s reign of terror, but I will need to let Zendor know that the air in here won’t hurt them a bit. I figure you’ll have thousands of new neighbors in no time.”
Lars laughed as if they were all having a fun-filled conversation.
“Could be,” he smiled. “Could be.”
“You need more help than I do,” Zale said, creeped out by Lars. “You should see if some kid in Reality dreamt up a counselor and have him visit you. He might be able to straighten you out before you kill him.”
“Come here,” Lars said, jumping up. “I have something else to show you.”
Lars walked out of the room and into the other area he had gone to earlier. Geth started to follow after him.
“Wait a second,” Zale said, grabbing Geth by the left shoulder. “You’re just going to follow him blindly?”
“My eyes are open,” Geth said. “Let’s see where this leads.”
“I’m with your weird brother on this one,” Clover whispered to Geth from his left shoulder. “I wouldn’t follow that guy anywhere. He just said he’s going to kill you.”
“I hope he tries,” Geth said passionately. “Let’s go.”
“You’re giving hope a bad name,” Clover pointed out. He then jumped from Geth to Zale. “Just in case,” Clover whispered to Zale.
Geth walked into the other room with his brother right behind him. The second room was a small kitchen with an iron stove and buckets of water in the corner. There were forks on the wooden counter and bits of food scraped together in a small pile. Against the opposite wall was a little table with only one chair. At the end of the room was a set of thin wood stairs leading up to another floor. Geth and Zale looked around but there was no sign of Lars.