Sort of Deadly

19 - A Birthday Clunk

‘So what you’re suggesting,' Aar said, 'is that we host a chess tournament amongst ourselves, and whoever wins gets to bathe Marra’s face in cake.’

Niffy nodded.

The official birthday party was over. All other kids – because apparently Marra had a handful of friends now – had returned to their homes. But not her. She was staying for the sleepover. Why, of course she was, the darling she is.

‘That’s not fair!’ shouted Aar. ‘Obviously Bee's gonna get to do it then. Right, Bee?’

I looked at him blankly.

‘She agrees, let’s think of – '

‘Will no one ask me if I want my face splotched with cake?’ Marra asked.

‘No,' Aar and Es said together.

'What if I’m allergic?’

‘To chocolate and cream?’ Aar said dismissively. ‘I think we’d know, buddy.’

They ignored an anxious Marra then and industriously started debating on who should get the first shot. When it was decided that Aar would get to do the honors, Es slumped in the corner, arms crossed below her chest, making noises that would melt a stone Goliath's heart. Aar ended up handing over the cake to her, and she ended up sharing the cake with him – and with their combined force the choco-vanilla (yum) cake landed on Mar’s face. ‘Happy birthday, Marru-parru,' Es said as she plucked the cherry off his nose with her remarkably white teeth.

So she had finally gotten used to flossing. Good for her.

After Marra had cleaned his face, we played Dumb charades in teams. Of course Aar and Niffy's team won, a movie buff and a person who communicated entirely by means of her hands. Marra and Mr. Om (he joined after awhile) scored a few. Turns out, Mr. Om does know a few movies other than The Godfather. And of course Es and I came last with the least points, because I had my mind on how to tell them about that scene with Rasthrum in the alleyway and Es was . . . well, being Es.

She had prepared a small dance for Marra, which I thought was rather impressive. Until at the end of the performance, when she had to swirl in a circle once, but she liked doing it so much she kept on revolving like a top. At a faster and faster rate, until her world became a sailor's nightmare and she collapsed like a drunk person, laughing so loud she could have your ear torn off easier than a cherry off your nose.

Aar and Mr. Om also had a Paracord Slinging competition, which ended in a tie, and I am sure I would have enjoyed being a spectator if all the while, I hadn’t been touching the amulet slung around my neck. I was looking for an opportunity to tell them – especially Mr. Om – about my odd coming across with Rasthrum. But that Niffy was always around.

I had so been looking forward to this after spending two dreadful months in the city. And now that I finally had this time with my friends, my guy wouldn’t settle. Marvelous.

We partied hard, even played musical chairs, with no due heed paid to the clock. Then Mr. Om received a rather urgent call from one of his mining sites, and was informed that there had been an accident and that a few workers had been grievously injured, and hence he had to leave. That all but dimmed our candle of enthusiasm. Soon Es dozed off giggling, as did Niffy (thank the stars). Looking at her Aar started yawning and it was only a matter of time before he, too, switched his buttons off.

We were all sleeping in a common 'dorm' of the mansion, and before Marra, whose mattress was placed right next to me, had an opportunity to drift away into his dreams – I grabbed his shoulder and opened my mouth to speak, to let it out, but then he turned towards me and I saw that it was not Marra at all but Rasthrum himself that lay besides me. A rough-hewn, beggarly Rasthrum.

‘Save me . . . from Ravenna,' he groaned, and 'wiched my hand between his claws, and I felt a lot of images reel into me.

Ravens. Flocks and masses of them. A wide, leathery sheet over the sky, a floating bridge of a hundred miles.

Hovels. Alit with flames. Dark, blue flames, the kind that the Grahi Witch bled.

A hooded figure with a scythe in hand. Ravenna. Somehow I knew her name. Somehow I knew she was sieging over Lakoswanion, the City Of A Hundred Haunts. Somehow I knew she had overthrown Rasthrum’s republic and somehow I knew that she was . .   scared?

Of me?

Suddenly a massive earthquake shook my solitary world. As I saw it, the roof of the dorm became the floor, and the floor became the roof. I shut my eyes, feeling everything shuffle and rumble around me like a humongous, knotty Rubik's cube. My friends crashed into walls, walls which were developing cracks and perforations, and Mr. Om's crazy artifacts –

The world stopped moving.
When I opened my eyes, Rasthrum was gone. And everything was . . . normal.

Marra was asleep now, and while I knew I had to wake him up and tell him, I had no nerve in my heart and no voice in my neck. That made me feel like Niffy, which was not a pleasant feeling to be experiencing at all.

So I picked myself up and trundled over in the dark to the kitchen, flinching at every shadow and jumping at every noise. I poured myself a cold glass of water from the refrigerator, downed it, inhaled deeply. Usually I drink warm water, it’s better for your gut, but right then I didn’t care. I had to tell them, I had to. We couldn’t wait for long. That Ravenna – whoever in the name of science she was – wouldn’t wait for long. Rasthrum would die, and with him our struggles and our victory over the Order Of The Witch Grant.

I closed the refrigerator, savoring a final gust of chill air . . . then opened it back up again. Looked at the bottom tray. Gulped.

Bananas.

A shiver ran up my waist. It’s weird how a menial thing like a banana could scare me so easily now. Had the city really turned me into that much of a wimp?

No. I was strong. I was.

Prove it, said the voice in my head, and at the moment it sounded awfully similar to the voice that had coaxed me into that alleyway. You couldn’t stand up against Garbo. Prove that you’re not a coward to a banana, at least.

Alright then, as you wish.

And try not to choke.

Not if I can help it.

I licked my lips. Rolled my elbow hinge joint. Grabbed a banana. Peeled it.

Thought I heard a noise behind me.

No. Nothing. Just me being paranoid.
Turned back to the banana.

Took a bite.

Clunk.

Bananas don’t make that sound when eaten, do they? And they aren’t hard solids, they’re supposed to be soft, edible, and certainly they don’t taste metallic . . .

I blinked.

I wasn’t holding a banana in my hand at all.

I was holding a . . .

I was . . .

No . . .

In my mouth . . . was the silver amulet.