“I think I found something.”
Vantra peered up from her book, a volume as thick as her waist, and looked at her Chosen. Katta had created a pencil-like stick with a rubbery end but without a sharp point so Laken could hold it in his mouth and turn pages with it. The Fields did not provide a way for him to learn the common tongue’s alphabet, so he could not read the words—but perusing pictures in travel books? No problem.
He tapped at a picture with a brief explanation below it, and Vantra leaned over the table to examine his discovery. The painting depicted thick green vines twisting around each other, towering above a jade-hued pool, a delicate mist rising from the water and filling the sparse shore. Rocks and debris clogged a dark tunnel sitting across from the viewer, small streams trickling through random breaches.
“That’s it!” Lorgan said, leaning on his elbows to get a better look. Laken sent him a subdued glare, which he ignored as he rotated the book around to read. “Strans’ Bargain, eh? I vaguely recall that from my research, but it wasn’t associated with your essence, so I jotted it down and forgot about it. Let’s see what this says.
“Strans’ Bargain is a pool in Twisted Grove, which rests west of Lake Deccavent and between the Dryan Lowlands and the Elfine Highlands. Venerated by the rainforest tribes of the Imtri, the Wiiv, and the Paas, they consider it a place of quiet beauty, well-suited for religious meditation and reflection. Stately vines rise high above the emerald waters, preventing wind and harsh sounds from penetrating the space. A cool Touch rises from the surface, providing a refreshing break from the muggy heat.
“The tribes say Strans of Twisted Vines created it for his first meeting with Whizan Kjiven, the future founder of Greenglimmer. Strans accepted elfine ghosts into his rainforest, but he did not give the blessing the whizan demanded; eternal, untwisted access to the Labyrinth of Trees. His refusal set them at odds.
“Kjiven, wishing to prove that he could form his own blessing, walked into the forest and famously disappeared for centuries. In later years, he claimed he returned to Strans’ Bargain to begin his quest to untwist the Labyrinth, and succeeded. His declaration brought mockery, since the Labyrinth’s pathways were just as convoluted as ever. In response, he trained the first Labyrinth mapmaker how to see the roadways that twisted through the trees. That cemented his leadership role among the elfines and gave him the prestige he needed to found Greenglimmer.
“Strans’ Bargain, once a popular tourist destination, is a forgotten treasure. Rumors about ghostly visitors being sent to the Final Death by Wiiv warriors have kept guide companies far away from the place. Some even claim Strans blocked access to the pool because the numerous visitors damaged its health.”
Lorgan smoothed the page and frowned. “I’ve never encountered this tale on the formation of the mapmakers. The ones I’m familiar with suggest an elfine whizan—and not Kjiven—asked an Elfiniti deity for help in making sense of the twisting magic. They conducted their own research based on the information, and came up with the first map long before Kjiven walked back out of the forest. When was this written?” He flipped to the back and scanned the author’s note. “Hmm. 123 years previous, and the author claims much of her history comes from elfines who pre-date Kjiven’s arrival in the Evenacht. Interesting. Too bad Chisterdelle isn’t nearby to question.”
Something scratched Vantra about the description, but she could not place what. It struck her as wrong, but she had no historical background to base such a feeling on. “I guess we should start looking for Strans’ Bargain.”
“A direction of inquiry,” Lorgan said cheerfully. “And Laken can continue to look for an image of the pool you saw, Vantra.”
She nodded, flipping to the index of the giant volume, gloomy and wishing more of the mini-Joyful had volunteered to stick their noses in books while they traveled to Two Rivers. Red had raised his eyebrows, jerked his head back, and wandered away, the others demurred, and even Fyrij had deserted them after falling asleep on her shoulder, then waking up and realizing nothing had changed during his slumber.
Grumbling to herself, she eyed Laken with envy; at least he only had to look at pictures. He turned to the next page, and she slapped her hand down to prevent him from continuing.
A drawing of a waterfall dropping into a peaceful pond, a flat rock in the center, sat above the title Moon Pool.
“Vantra?” Laken asked, sharp enough to cut through her shock.
“This is it,” she whispered, pointing at the artwork. “The pool I saw in the vision.” She scanned the brief blurb; it said nothing other than Greenglimmer tribes held it sacred since it was the place of Strans’ birth. Only a lucky few would see a Moon Blessing while there.
Lorgan snagged a thinner, folklore volume. “This has a chapter on Stran’s,” he said. Vantra took it and flipped through. The section on the deity began with tales of his birth.
“The author says that the Elfiniti has as many stories of Strans’ birth as it does tribes. The most popular one is about an evaki couple exiled from the Dryanthium-based Euva tribe. They fled into the eastern Labyrinth of Trees, where the Raamaatiyan took them in. There, they started a family, and their oldest became Strans when he passed the challenges the divine Amba Dwe gave him. But this author prefers the lesser-known tales, and the one least likely to be told is the Moon Pool, an Imtri tribal story.
“One night, an evaki woman, fleeing her restrictive home, stumbled into the Labyrinth. She quickly became lost, and in desperation, followed a small stream downhill. As she arrived at a waterfall-fed pool, the clouds that constantly covered the Evenacht parted, and the moon’s rays touched the water, making the deep emerald color shine like pale crystals. In the center of the pool, standing on a flat stone, was a being unlike any who lived in the rainforest.” She paused, annoyed. “Of course they had sex, because that’s the obvious thing to do when you meet a strange man in the forest.”
They both laughed, which surprised her; Laken did not enjoy Lorgan’s presence and typically kept a dour attitude while in his company. What did he find so funny?
“Well, what would you do if you happened upon a stranger who looked like no other in the deep, deadly rainforest?” she asked grumpily.
“Say hi?” Lorgan shrugged, his eyes too bright in good humor. “Though I’m the cautious type, so sex would not be my first thought upon encountering a stranger in a strange place.”
“Depends on the stranger.” Laken regarded her with a pleased, small smile. Laken never looked pleasant, so the reaction pricked her curiosity. Had he done something similar in his youth? Pirate captains did not run hand-in-hand with caution, so maybe he had. She turned back to the book before she asked an impertinent question.
“They eventually had a son, which they raised together in the quiet forest haven. When the son’s twentieth year came, he decided to explore beyond the pool, for he found his parents and their home boring. He walked the breadth of the rainforest, and met all manner of unfamiliar plants, animals, tribe members, and beings in Ether forms. Those he encountered thought he was rather strange in turn, but only the Wiiv took exception to his questions. They tried to harm him, but the vines of the forest protected him from their murderous intent. They liked the odd one and rather than see him fall to the warriors, they told him to flee to the nearest Imtri village.
“Unbeknownst to him, an Imtri shaman had dreams about meeting an evaki protected by the rainforest. When Strans, guarded by twisting vines, arrived in their gate and asked for shelter, the shaman bowed to he who spoke to the plants and provided that shelter.
“The Wiiv dared not provoke the Imtri, since they were judicators of the forest, so waited outside the village’s entrance for Strans to leave. The shaman hid him for many semma and taught him rainforest secrets to alleviate his boredom. By the time the Wiiv slunk back to their village, defeated by cowardice, Strans had become one with the twisted vines that liked him so much. He returned home and his parents celebrated his adventures. The story ends saying he, on Moon-blessed nights, will still return to his parents’ home, and regale them with his many adventures since his last visit.”
“I see why it’s rarely told,” Lorgan murmured.
“Why?” Vantra regarded him, confused.
“It’s boring.”
“No it’s not!”
“The Wiiv are not gigantic monsters tearing through the village to snatch him, there’s no quest giver who demands he complete difficult tasks in exchange for magic knowledge, and no one dies. It’s pretty tame, for a folk tale.”
Petulance flared. Maybe that’s why she liked it.
“It’s too bad it isn’t more specific about the pool’s location,” Lorgan said. “The Labyrinth is a large place. Well, we now know to search for Moon Pool and Strans’ Bargain. I wonder how often their names changed over the centuries.”
Nauseous anxiety and helplessness filled her at the question. “I think I need a break.” Walking outside the wagon, letting the breeze ruffle her essence, sounded better than it should.
“The books aren’t going anywhere,” Lorgan said, tapping the pages of the folktale.
She closed the humongous volume she had sorted through and rose. No, she did not think they would.
