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FLUPPIT HEARD A GASP in the darkness. They’d all taken to camping in the Sanctuary while the crisis was on. The Tinkralas, who were the only group besides Amber’s leaders cadre that were deemed to be beyond suspicion, had taken to praying over OneLove. Fluppit found the singing calming but didn’t comprehend what good it might do. The gasp was familiar. Padg had woken up. Dun had slept beside him for two whole spans since they’d returned from the Grey Duchy. Amber had different representatives from the Tinkralas bring food back to the Sanctuary for everyone, and Kaj had organised some of her friends in the Jasmine Collective to start a sketchy investigation. The Jasmine lot loved a good mystery or conspiracy, so bugs were being set and questions asked. At least the regular visits from Tinkralas and Jasmines meant fresh scents in the Sanctuary, which was becoming blanketed by a funk that seemed heavier each day.
“It’s okay Padg, we’re all here. Sit up and drink something, mate.”
“Thanks, Gods what’s that smell?” Padg’s voice was croaky.
“One thing at a time,” said Dun, “are you hungry?”
“Not faintly with that smell, shreds!”
“It’s Myrch.” Dun and Padg, both still referred to OneLove by the name he’d had when he was still alive, still in a body at least. Fluppit had never known him like that so she found it odd, in the way she found a lot of grown-up behaviour odd. “Someone poisoned the vat.”
“Hell. Any ideas who?”
“No, Kaj has put some feelers out,” said Amber, “but nothing’s come back so far. How are you feeling?”
“Slightly less awful, thanks. Awful nightmares though.”
“That might be sleeping in here,” said Fluppit. “Uncle Dun and I have been having headaches and bad dreams too.”
“I don’t know,” said Padg, “I’ve never had to do this kind of thing before, not like you shaman lot. I’m not getting anyone talking in my head. Mostly stabbing and pains, thousands of needles in my eyes and my head. I was hoping I might find someone could get me something for it.”
“We’ve sent for a healer,” said Amber.
The vat gurgled horribly, and a limpid bubble broke on its surface, breathing a new miasma into the room.
“Perhaps they’ll be able to help this old chap too.” Padg kicked the skin of the vat for emphasis.
“One thing at a time,” said Dun. “What the hell happened to you? All I remember was you screaming.”
Fluppit crossed the room, picked up Padg’s hand and held it.
“I- I can’t- It’s really hard to describe it. There were all these feelings in my head, mostly like needles stabbing me. Did you not feel any of that?”
“No, I just heard you screaming.”
“It was like the curtains in that corridor opened and the stabbing, came from behind the curtains. I found my eyes scrunched up out of reflex—”
“Ooh, like when you get spray in your face when you’re fishing on the river?” said Fluppit.
“Yeah,” Padg squeezed her hand, “just like that, but not? When my eyes were scrunched the pain was still there, just less?”
“If you get river water in your eyes, it still stings even after you’ve wiped them,” said Fluppit.
“I suppose it does,” said Padg.
“Why didn’t it affect me?” asked Dun.
“I’m not sure, but I bet those Grey Duchy bastards know.”
“They told us as much— ‘some can never join us; some go mad and the few remaining...’ or whatever it was the mad old bugger said. So maybe I can never join,”
“And I should be mad. Or else have joined them.”
“Trust you to do it different, Uncle Padg,” said Fluppit.
Nev brought in racta and a healer. Since the healer in question was Sari from Dun and Padg’s old home of Bridgetown, for once a visitor was more welcome than the racta.
“Let me introduce you to an old friend, Fluppit,” said Dun.
“Less of the ‘old’, you cheeky young pup,” Sari said.
“I don’t think any of us are young anymore,” groaned Padg.
Fluppit was a little lost in the embraces and in-jokes and someone that everybody knew so well. She smelled faintly of vinegar and honey. She crouched down to be nose-to-nose with Fluppit.
“And who’s this fine young Folk then?” Even her breath on Fluppit’s whiskers smelled of honey.
“I’m Fluppit,” said Fluppit.
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you. What’s been going on here then?” It took Fluppit a couple of ticks to realise that the question was aimed at her.
“Oh. Well, Uncle Padg and Uncle Dun escaped from the Grey Duchy, where they tied them up and did something horrible to them and then they got back here and Uncle Padg had just woken up and someone must have sneaked in and put something nasty in the vat to try to poison OneLove and he’s very, very sick and I think he might die, he’s not talking to anyone anymore and I’m scared for him.”
“That about sums it up,” said Dun, patting Fluppit on the head.
She tutted in response. Fluppit realised that everyone was now cradling a racta, except their new visitor. She took herself round the room to the small table in the corner where folk habitually left such things and poured a cup out and took it back to Sari.
“Thank you, Fluppit,” she said. It was unusual for grown-ups to remember names at first telling. “So, lead the way to your friend OneLove then,” again she addressed Fluppit, like none of the other grown-ups were there, “tell me all about him.”
