ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-NINE: Tenderroot

 

159

******

 

“How long will you stay?” Stuart asked.

The Artonan boy was at his desk, eyes focused on something Alden couldn’t see. And Alden, thoughts racing toward the goal of getting away from what had been shaping up to be an emotional pit of an evening, was trying to compose a text message to Esh-erdi to let the knight know where he was going and that he hadn’t been kidnapped from the cube.

“Shouldn’t you tell me that?” he replied in Artonan. “It’s your house.”

“I have two and a half days left of my weekend,” said Stuart.

Okay. He’s thinking long visit.

Right now, that sounded absolutely fine. “I have class Wednesday.”

“If you grow tired of my company or the environment, you may use our summonarium whenever you want to. Humans have so many different eating customs. Is there a correct number of dishes I should serve to you to be properly welcoming?”

“Stuart. This is me. The last time we spoke, we talked about a person who pees in shoes, and I showed you paper shaping, and I stood out in the rain while I wore a large garbage bag on my body.”

 

Stuart looked up from whatever he was doing. “I know. And you called me your friend three times. I hoped all week that you would want to share another of your school days with me.”

“…you counted?”

“When I heard that Anesidora was <<threatened>>,” said Stuart, “and I feared for your safety, I regretted that during our previous conversations I let timing and circumstances <<loom large>> in my consideration.”

Alden accidentally added the phrase “loom large in my consideration” to his Esh-erdi text message, deleted it hastily, then said, “What does that mean?”

Stuart looked back down. “Ideal human sleeping temperature seems quite cold to me. Is that with or without a warming cushion?”

 

******

 

Alden remembered that he had a lot of nerves about visiting Stu-art’h and, more significantly, the rest of the art’h family about ten seconds before he wheeled his suitcase into Matadero’s in-house teleportation area.

The cube had one, of course. It was way down at the bottom, below the water line, where there were no people. One sign he’d passed indicated that he’d entered an area called Flood Trap 2.

Stuart had ended the call twenty minutes ago to finish his “preparations.” Alden had finished his own preparations by texting Kabir a request for snake care, brushing his teeth and hair, and shoving stuff into the big blue suitcase. Which was probably about to break some kind of a record for Earth-made suitcases by traveling to Rapport I.

What the hell am I doing?

And what the hell was Stuart doing? They had scheduled a specific day for Alden’s first invited visit. It had been clear that Stuart had been making plans for that day.

He was going to send me clothing recommendations. More manners stuff. I was going to have a shirt embroidered so they wouldn’t think I was an ingrate who didn’t appreciate one of their most important family member’s honors.

Now he had the school uniform he was wearing and one change of clothes. Fortunately it was the plain brown t-shirt, not something with writing or images on it. He’d been conscious of that since Stuart had mentioned it, and he’d brought it along because he thought he’d be spending more time here at the cube around a bunch of Artonans.

This is just a different bunch of Artonans. No big deal.

The most important bunch of Artonans. The bunch of Artonans that had just had some kind of a disagreement with Stuart that might have been—probably was—about Alden.

There are the nerves, he thought, swallowing as he stepped into a wide teleportation alcove with an arched ceiling. Hey. Bright side. Social worries are keeping me from being freaked out by the fact that this is my first time teleporting away from Earth since February.

He remembered the person he was before, waving goodbye to Boe and Jeremy. The freshly purchased red coat. The fear mingling with excitement.

“System, if anyone on my priority contacts list calls, send it through at my expense without giving the long distance notification.”

He tried to think of what else there was a person had to do before ditching the planet.

Surprisingly little in this case.

A message from Esh-erdi arrived. Alden had felt bad texting the knight when he was busy cleaning up Sinker Sender magic, but he guessed he shouldn’t have, since Esh-erdi’s replies had made it seem like he was pleased with the turn of events.

Although this one said, [Do not let anyone tell you The Elder’s Croak. I will be better at it than them.]

About a minute later, the official invitation to visit Rapport I arrived. Alden had been a little worried that it would look like a summons, complete with payment and a timer. But it was an image of a handwritten letter from Stuart, hovering in front of him while the System translated the writing into English.

 

Samuel Alden Thorn of Earth,

Welcoming you as my guest would bring me happiness. Our household would be enlivened by your presence for a day or a year. Our fires are warm, and our bowls are full.

I await your answer in the house of Jeneth-art’h.

Being his son, and of age to offer the house’s welcome,

Sina Stu-art’h

 

It was followed by a teleportation offer. No timer.

The formality is a lot. But that’s such a welcoming invitation really.

And the Primary finally had a name. Alden would probably think of it one percent as often as he thought “Primary,” but it was still good to know.

What do I actually call him to his face if it comes up? Hello, Primary? Primary Jeneth-art’h? Hn’tyon Jeneth-art’h? Mr. Stuart’s Dad?

I was supposed to have a whole month to figure this all out. What’s happened over there?

He had no idea what to expect when arrived at the summonarium. Would there be forty knights and wizards there? Kids? The Primary and his spouses?

Is it weird to be wearing my school uniform? Should I change into the t-shirt?

He took a breath and straightened his outfit. He told himself the art’h family was not scary. He’d served some of them third meal, after all.

“All right. Let’s go to Artona I. I accept the teleport.”

 

******

 

He lost awareness of his body, of anything like a world around him. He gained that clarifying awareness of himself.

And, then, he was breathing in the air of another world.

He stood in the art’h family’s huge summonarium, right in the middle of a design painted on the stone floor.

The only other person in the room was Stuart. He was wearing a nervous expression and an outfit that was a little more festive than any Alden had seen him in before. Still nothing as elaborate as the clothes some fully qualified wizards wore on a daily basis, but it was noticeable.

The gray tunic was nearly knee-length, and the wide belt of matching fabric was embroidered in a slightly darker shade. The centerpiece of the embroidery was unusual—a round shape with a lot of spiky protrusions that Alden couldn’t quite identify. And the sleeves of the tunic were wide enough at the wrists to reveal a purple lining when Stuart held his arms outstretched, as he was doing right now in order to present Alden with the physical copy of the very invitation he’d just seen a picture of.

Here we go. Guest manners on.

The last time he was here, he’d been a freshly-affixed house wanderer—sore, covered in dirt, and nudged along by the suggestions of the Artona I kernel. Now he was here purely by choice to see Stu-art’h, just hours after hearing that he might never see him again.

If the inviter wanted this to be an occasion, then the invitee could accommodate.

Alden let go of the suitcase handle and stepped forward to accept the small paper sheet with both of his own hands. “Thank you. I’m very glad to be here. I had been anticipating our usual conversation, so the chance to see you in person is an unlooked-for treasure.”

He was super proud that he knew how to say that last part in Artonan, and that he knew it well enough to be fairly confident it met the moment.

Stuart smiled and visibly relaxed in the same way a tense Boe might have relaxed if Alden had said, “ ’sup, asshole?”

“Here at the <<siblinghold>>, we have more than one set of house stationery,” Stuart said, obviously under the impression that Alden was staring so hard at the invitation because he was examining it, not because he was having a major epiphany about it being possible for swearing and formality to serve the same function. “Aunt Alis, her children, and her spouses all use brown ink for their invitations.”

“I meant to prepare better before I came to see you in person,” Alden said, looking up. “I was going to wear the commendation the way we talked about and try to learn the names of all your relatives. And I was going to think of a small gift. A lot of humans do that—a gift for the one who invited them.”

“Your presence is the gift,” Stuart said graciously.

Alden stepped back over to get his suitcase.

“Is your leg well enough for a walk?”

“Yes. It’s not serious.”

“Esh-erdi said you almost drowned.”

Surprised, Alden whipped around. “You talked to Esh-erdi about me? When? Why?”

“You told him you were worried I wouldn’t be able to call because you were at the place humans call Matadero. His <<stated>> reasons for contacting me were to let me know that he had met you, that you were receiving care for your physical injuries, and that there was no reason for me to avoid calling out of respect for your perceived busyness with more urgent matters.” Stuart paused. “I wasn’t going to respect your busyness anyway, though. Before I heard from him, I was planning to teleport home from school early to insist that Evul help me check on you.”

I should have realized, thought Alden. Talking to Stuart had been on the same list of requests as school attendance and Tiny Snake food. Esh-erdi had decided to see to all of those things.

“The unstated reasons for his call were slightly different, if I didn’t misunderstand his <<delicate insinuations>>,” said Stuart.

That was a concerning way of putting things. “What did he insinuate?”

“He…I hope our visit will lead us to that depth of conversation,” said Stuart. “But first, I’ll take you to your <<cottage>>! And we should discuss our <<itinerary>>.”

I get a cottage? And an itinerary?

“If it sounds pleasant to you, as it does to me, we will eat together,” Stuart continued as he led the way to the summonarium’s door. “Seven forty-three post meridiem in your human time is good for your third meal, isn’t it? It coincides with when I usually have second meal.”

That was just over an hour from now. “It’s a good time,” Alden confirmed.

“I ordered a few meatpetal dishes since you said you—”

“Meatpetal!”

“—liked that,” Stuart concluded.

 

******

 

Stepping out of the summonarium was surreal in a way Alden hadn’t expected it to be. He’d been in a strange state of mind during his one and only other time here. His memory of the trees and the mirrored buildings hidden among them had a clarity to it, but he’d somehow completely missed details that now leaped out.

Three of the towering, dark trees that stood around the summonarium had limbs that grew together above the building in a way that looked more like a product of intention than nature. Like they were weaving themselves together to form a second roof.

Another tree, a short ways up the path, had cone-shaped baskets hanging from high branches. They were large enough for people to sit inside, which he knew was at least one of their functions since a trio of Artonans were leaning out of the circular entrance hole in one of them and looking down toward Alden and Stuart. He considered waving, then decided against it.

In a house full of wizards and knights, I guess the lack of ladders leading up to the tree baskets isn’t much of a problem.

He sniffed the air. “It smells really good. Like food?”

Like burnt sugar actually.

“They’re making flatseed candy on the other side of the house,” Stuart said. “Everyone spends a lot of time outdoors in the summer.”

So homey. “I looked up the climate for this Rapport one night when I couldn’t sleep. Your summers are so comfortable for humans.”

“It’s pleasant for you today?”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The sun was shining down through the tree branches, and it felt like it was in the low eighties. “It would be perfect if my school uniform had short sleeves, but yes. This is good.”

“It’s pleasant for us, too. When he’s home, my oldest living brother spends the entire season trying to be <<at one with the land>>. We don’t see him until the <<frost>> chills the world.” Stuart stopped walking and looked around with a small frown. “Where did she go? I told her to stay at the door.”

Before Alden could ask who he meant, Stuart shouted, “Aaaaalden! Here to me!”

Then he waited with an expectant look on his face. No ryeh-b’t appeared.

Alden wondered if he’d ever stop thinking it was funny and awesome that there was a ryeh-b’t running around with his name. “Maybe she didn’t hear you.”

“She has excellent hearing. Someone’s probably playing with her. Every time I return home from school, I have to remind her and whoever the latest <<child-spoiler>> is that she is at an age where she needs structure.”

He whistled piercingly.

A moment later, Alden followed his gaze to see that a red head had poked itself out of the occupied tree basket up above them. Stuart pointed at the ground beside his feet.

The ryeh-b’t took her sweet time emerging from the basket. Stuart kept whistling and pointing.