Source: Don’t Squint

The Wishing Map is a full-length fantasy that is being posted episodically at this site. To read the previous episode, click here. To read the entire novel, begin here.

After Zack and his sister Gina returned to the world of Ismara, Zack had been shanghaied by the naims as their new Storysmith. They’d taken him to “the great city of Naimian,” which seemed to be nothing more than a clearing in the woods. Until…

Where the roots divided, the immense tree began to open. It appeared to be magic, yet the naims considered it as natural as unlocking their front door. The opening settled at about four feet high and three feet wide; it looked like the kind of split made by lightning (although Ismara had cloud shepherds, rather than lightning).

Bulgy led the procession inside. Zack expected a single room with a few rough-hewn chairs. Instead, there was an impossibly large chamber lit by orange-red sconces exuding a rich cedary smell. At the center was a huge sort of three-tiered serving dish with wooden steps leading to each level. Piercing through all three tiers was a three-stranded hempen rope, each strand as thick as a well-fed naim.

“The heartwood lift,” Tuber explained. “All the heartwood trees has ‘em!”

“Rootworks!” someone shouted.

“Nay, ter the Crown!” another retorted.

“It’s ter the Rootworks we’ll go first,” declared Bulgy, “and Master Zaggyzim agrees!”

“Well, I…” Zack began, but before he got any further, a cacophony of votes cried: “Crown!”           “Rootworks!”           “Crown!”           “Rootworks!”           “Crown!” “Rootworks!” “Crown!” “Rootworks!” “Crown!“ “Rootworks!“ “Crown!” “Rootworks!“ ”Crown!Rootworks!Crown!Rootworks!Crown!Rootworks!Crown!Rootworks!Crown!”

Over the fray, Bulgy yelled, “Bottom-up makes most sense ter me, an’ I’m the most thinky-est!”

“Most stinky-est, seems ter me, Bulgy Bulge-Root!” snorted a strident female voice. The chamber erupted in a paroxysm of cackles, sneers, hoots, brays, and bullyrags. The owner of the voice, a long-faced naim with a shock of orange paintbrush hair, identified herself:

“Lyffwin Fair-Leaf is as I’m called, an’ I, being the most-wisest, an’ not just the braggy-est, like old Bulgy here, says top-ter-bottom is most sensible-est. And Master Zaggyzim agrees, don’t yer?”

“Well, I—” Zack began.

“Top-ter-bottom!” shouted half the room.

“Bottom-up!” shouted the other half.

“Lyffwin is full a’ wind!” Bulgy quipped. The chamber erupted once again.

Zack looked down at Tuber. The old naim shook his head gravely.

“Hey!” Zack shouted. “Maybe I could toss a coin.”

The cacophony ceased. It was followed by blank stares.

Zack spotted a piece of bark, picked it up and said, “Rough side up, it’s top-to-bottom; smooth side, it’s bottom-up.” He wasn’t sure what either option meant, but a choice needed to be made.

More blank stares.

“OK, so here we go.” Zack tossed the bark “coin” in the air, as three dozen faces watched, mystified.  Then he grabbed it and smacked it down on the back of his hand. “OK, smooth side wins, so it’s bottom-up.”

There was a moment of silence, followed by Tuber’s awestruck declaration, “Even lee bits a’ rainbowwood bark speaks their truth ter Master Zaggyzim!”

“Hey-fah!” rejoiced Sniggle. “Hey-fah for Master Zaggyzim, the greaty-est storysmith as ever was!”

“Hey-fah!” the room exploded.

All but Bulgy and Lyffwin.

φ

Thoughts: Have you ever found yourself in the position of peacemaker simply because no one else would accept the role?

To read the next episode, click here.