Gateway to Druidia

Book 1: Envy's Tale

Chapter 84

“I thought them cleaners couldn't talk?” Cat pondered, as he and Dancer made their way to the barracks that housed the Temple's deformed janitorial staff.

“They can't,” Dancer agreed. “Leastways, not in any language we'd understand. But their manager ought to be able to translate for us.”

Cat scoffed. “Meanin', whatever we find out, there's one more who'll know who can spread the word if 'e bloody well pleases.”

Dancer paused. “I hadn't thought of that. You're right.” She shook her head, continuing on. “But we don't have a choice, really.”

Opening the door, the two strode into what appeared to be a reception area. The room was empty, save for a single desk, at which sat a serious-looking teenage girl.

“Excuse me,” Dancer said.

The girl glanced up. “What can I do for- Oh!” The girl jumped at the sight of the Protean. “I'm sorry. You startled me.”

“I get that a lot,” Dancer replied. “Is this where the Temple's cleaning Mods are housed?”

“It is, yes. I'm Issa.”

“Could we speak to th' person in charge?” Cat inquired.

“That would be me. Is there a problem?”

“You? You're in charge o' cleanin' th' whole Temple?” Cat asked incredulously.

“Well, yes,” Issa replied defensively. “It's not as if there's a lot to it. I turn the Mods loose at sunset, wait three hours, then call them back and keep a tally to see that none go missing.”

“That's it?”

“That's it. Well, apart from mucking out their stables.” She made a face. “You'd think cleaning Mods would be able to clean up after themselves.”

Dancer bit her tongue, probably swallowing a retort about how Issa wouldn't want to clean up her own dung, either, if she cleaned using her mouth.

“Listen,” she said evenly. “We need to speak to a few of your cleaners.”

“They sleep my day,” the manager replied. “Perhaps if you could come back after sunset.”

“It's kinda important,” Cat replied. “One of the students has gone missin' in th' night. Friend of ours. We'd like 'er back.”

“Oh.” Issa fidgeted, not sure how to deal with this departure from the norm. “Well....I suppose, if it's that important. Wait here.”

She rose from her seat and left the room through a door at the back.

Cat snorted. “Clean up after themselves,” he scoffed. “Not bad enough they got to clean up after you lot, is it?”

Before Dancer could reply, the door opened and Issa returned with a cleaner in tow. She nudged the drowsy creature into the room ahead of her with her boot...not cruelly, but not gently either.

“Well, go on. Ask away.”

Dancer crouched down to look the quadrapedal, low-slung Mod in the eye.

“Hey there. Sorry to wake you. I need to ask you something.”

The Mod blinked up at her expectantly. It did a double-take, then began to make excited clicking noises.

“It says it remembers you,” Issa said. “You were the one out walking last night with...her.” The manager looked puzzled. “'Her' who?”

“Our friend,” Cat replied. He turned to the Mod. “Didja see what happened to her, after this one went home?” he asked, clapping Dancer on the shoulder.

The Mod nodded. It let out another string of clicks.

“The teacher walked with her for a while, then put her to sleep and gave her to the big dog.” Issa looked at the cleaner disdainfully. “I swear, they take out half these things' brains when they mod them. That makes no sense at all.”

Cat and Dancer exchanged glances, understanding perfectly what the cleaner meant.

“Thank you both,” Dancer said, rising to her feet. “You've been very helpful. Let's go, Cat.”

They started for the door, but before they could reach it, the cleaner chittered some more.

“That's enough out of you,” Issa said, starting to wrangle the poor servant back towards the stable door. “They've got whatever it was they needed.”

“Wait,” Cat said. “What'd 'e say?”

“Oh...something about the big dog again, and 'taking the girl to the Irrum Golya'. Whatever that means.”

Cat and Dancer exchanged puzzled looks.

“What's the Irrum Golya?” Cat asked.

“A children's story,” Issa replied. She glanced up at them in surprise. “You've never heard that one? 'Kaji and the Irrum Golya'? Kid sells his family's old horse for a magic acorn, grows a giant tree, climbs to the top and finds a fortune in gold guarded by a huge bird, winds up having to shoot the thing and chop the tree down to escape. It's a classic. Your mom never told you that one when you were little?”

“Our mom was a little preoccupied with keeping food in our stomachs,” Dancer replied curtly. “Goodbye.”

“Thanks again!” Cat said brightly, following his sister out the door.

“Irrum Golya,” Dancer repeated, frowning, her blue faceted eyes narrowed in bafflement.

“'sit true what she said, about them missin' brains?” Cat asked.

Dancer shook her head. “They don't touch the brains when they mod cleaners. No reason to.”

“Then....th' cleaner was talkin' in code, maybe? 'e didn't want Issa to know what 'e was sayin'?”

“Maybe,” Dancer agreed. “Lets meet up with the others.”

“Maybe Soren's found somethin',” Cat agreed. “Hey, even if not, maybe we can get Cantus to tell us this acorn story. It sounds like a good one.”