Stript: Jeli Series, #3

Author’s Note

Stript is the third and final book of the Jeli series, a complex story about a boy named Mark who is related to two god families —Mycenaean and African. Read the three books in order, if possible: first Thwortle, then Dancing Mountain, and finally this one.

God families exist in a separate plane from wolds (worlds), such as Earthenwold (nonmagical Earth) and Nolin wold (magical). They act as if mutually exclusive from other god families. For example, the African god Mundar knows about the three Mycenaean brother gods, but he usually acts as if he doesn’t, and vice versa.

There are several different languages in the Jeli series. Mark knows English from having grown up in Earthenwold’s New York City. He doesn’t know the spoken language of Nolin wold or of Mundar’s village, but while in Nolin he discovers that he can use l’ing, a mindtalk, which comes easily to some, while others must work hard to learn it. L’ing is shown in italics, inside quote marks, throughout the series.

Everyone from the domain of the three Mycenaean brother gods (Zau, Posel and Hador) is proficient in many languages including l’ing, and when they speak most listeners can understand them.

Chapter 1

In the domain of the three Mycenaean brother gods, each brother had his own realm: Zau’s was mainly of land, Posel’s of water, and Hador ruled the underworld.

The boundaries of their realms came together at one special place, in exact one–third wedges, set in a circle. Beyond this circle the lands of Zau and the watery preserves of Posel sprawled outward with irregular boundaries, while a broad track led down to Hador’s underworld.

The place was used by the brothers for their formal meetings. Clad entirely in white marble, it had a ring–like structure. An enormous outer circle was level with the ground, and divided into thirds by three massive columns. One shallow step down from the outer circle was a broad middle circle; another step down was a large central circle that was reserved for the three brothers.

Most of the time the meeting place was deserted. But one morning an expectancy hung in the air as the three brothers and their entourages converged on it, haughty with millennia of stately purpose.

Each brother reclined on a floating kline​[1], moving along at a sedate pace. Almost everyone else walked the last mile or so.

The brothers arrived at about the same time, and each waited between the two columns marking his realm’s boundaries, for the cue to proceed to the central circle. When this came they descended to it. The chief clerks and offspring stopped on the middle circle; everyone else spread out in rows along the outer circle and far beyond it.

Posel of the water realm reclined on grey–green oceanic flows; Hador on tightly controlled funereal smoke.

As was typical, Zau opted for lavish display. This time he reclined on a magnificent bed of eagle feathers, which grew from papillae ranged along his sides and shoulders. From a distance the effect was spectacular. Close up — itchy–scratchy. Bits of keratin flaked off the unfurling feathers. Zau’s shoulders continually twitched. It was obvious to Posel and Hador that their brother could barely repress an urge to preen. His patience, never great, would be in short supply.

Zau gave Hador a nod of greeting and spoke curtly to Posel, This time it is you who called for us to meet. So, state your business, will you? And make it snappy!

Instead of answering, Posel signaled to his chief clerk, who in turn sent a signal down through the ranks of water beings.

Far back in the crowd a colossal man of mud rose to his full height, towering over the nymphs and tritons. They parted ranks for him, and he strode through the shallows to the head of Posel’s entourage.

Long before he reached it, Hador and Zau were snarling with outrage.

Shame, Posel! growled Hador from billowing clouds of his dark smoke. How dare you —

"Get — that — overgrown — mudbank — out — of — here! Zau roared, flaring his plumage. You’ve no right — Posel, do you hear me?! Get rid — immediately — or I’ll, I’ll —"

But neither Posel nor the mudman heeded Zau or Hador.

Zau collapsed his floating kline in a wild flutter, and was armed and shielded before his feet touched the ground. His eyes blazed his supremacy. Immense, spear–like lightning bolts crackled in both hands.

Posel hunkered down in his watery kline and turned his back on both of his brothers.

It was this turning away, and Posel’s relatively placid flows, which kept Zau from hurling one of his bolts. Posel had known this — at least, he had known it as well as anyone can know what an immensely more powerful brother would do, after millennia of observation. On this he had staked everything, and won. Round One to Posel.

Mundar — for the enormous mudman was none other — reached the outer circle and stopped. His chunky brown face roiled steadily and his lizard sat serenely on his massive shoulder, its eyes avid and bold.

Mundar’s tawny, liquid eyes flicked over Hador and Zau, and settled on Posel. At Posel’s nod he came forward, stepping down from the outer circle to the middle one. Zau bristled, rattling his sizzling bolts. But neither Posel nor Mundar flinched.

Posel’s Chief Clerk and his son Flar gave up their places in the middle circle to Mundar, and then — only then — did Posel turn back to his brothers and speak.

You will both thank me for bringing Mundar here, before thish meeting ish over, he said.

"Thank you! Zau spat. Thank —"

"If I may be permitted to continue —," Posel interposed.

"You had no right —," yelled Zau.

Tell us why you brought this, this, ah, alien before us, cut in Hador. He was more calculating than his brothers, and became all the calmer during Zau’s histrionics. None but our own kind are permitted to attend these meetings, he continued sharply. You have deliberately broken one of the most sacred and basic of our —

"Me?! Posel shot back. You dare to find fault with me?! You, who got ush into thish messh in the firsht placshe, by letting your mongrel boy come into hish powersh —"

I did not let —

Here we are, brothersh, swelled Posel, letting his flows go a bit wild for effect. Zau was still brandishing his bolts with a threatening rattle — it was now or never. Here we are, with our combined power threatened by a mere boy, and I bring to you the only hope for shtripping him. But do you thank me? Noooooo! All you two can — 

Stripping him? Hador growled. Just what do you mean by that?

Zshau musht put away hish boltsh firsht, Posel demanded, pressing his razor–thin advantage. Why, it’sh poshitively inshulting to me and my, my guesht.

"Your guest! Your — " Zau spluttered into incoherent menace.

But Posel had just won Round Two. Hador was with him now — or at least willing to hear him out. Posel waited and, as he had hoped, Hador assumed the burden of placating Zau.

Posel’s breach is serious, Zau, Hador drawled, and he must be called to account for it. But what harm can there be in hearing him out? Whatever he proposes, it can always be rejected if it doesn’t suit.

Zau relaxed his stance slightly, but to a knowing eye the change was significant. Zau would much rather punish his brother Posel, than obliterate him. The former promised an ongoing satisfaction, while the latter would be a mere footnote in the annals of his prowess.

There was also the problem of finding someone to run the water realm, if he obliterated Posel — the mere thought of the water realm’s bizarre array of soggy creatures gave him shivers.

Alright, he huffed. Alright. I’ll listen. But the meeting must be private. Only us three, and the mudblob.

Zau disarmed, re–formed his feathery kline, and settled into it while the three chief clerks directed the entourages far back and out of earshot.

Alright, Posel, said Zau at length, proceed.

Mundar offersh to bring the boy, and to shjoin with Hador in taking hish powersh from him, Posel stated.

Silence hung over the meeting place while Zau and Hador absorbed this unexpected proposal. Then, after glancing at Zau, Hador spoke.

First of all, Posel, it will never work. We will never get the boy’s powers from him.

Oh, it can be done, Mundar said quietly to Hador. It can be done, provided I deliver the boy in the proper condition, and that you and I achieve a, shall we say, a balance in our work.

You will recollect, he continued, with his eyes fixed on Hador’s, that we worked together once in the past.

Ah, replied Hador, you mean Manna, and our little place for her.

Precisely, grated Mundar. His lizard’s tail flicked against his thick neck. Precisely.

Hador shook his head. Manna’s powers were piffling, he mused aloud. This boy is another matter entirely. His eyes narrowed and bored into Mundar’s. What would be required of me?

Mundar’s shoulders undulated in a casual shrug. Not much more, probably, than what you have already expended, in your efforts to have the boy destroyed, he said.

And your price? asked Hador grimly.

Mmmm, price, purred Mundar. Price. Mmmm, not so much, really. Just two little things, eh?

Ah. And just what might they be?

First, safe passage for the boy and his people. He is, after all, my grandson, eh? And no funny stuff.

Safe passage? To where?

To anywhere in a wold. What I mean is, safe passage throughout a human life for him, for them.

Hador and Zau exchanged glances, reading each other’s thoughts. If the boy really could be stript of his powers, he would be a mere human, and probably a dull, plodding one at that. He would no longer be a threat. And allowing the others what was left of their puny lives — that was easy enough to grant.

And the second thing, the second part of your, ah, price? What would that be, Mundar? Hador asked.

Ah, the second thing. Well, yes, you see . . . mmmm . . . I will have to take Manna back to me. Completely.

Hador kept his face expressionless, but inside he recoiled explosively. He stared moodily at the lizard perched on Mundar’s shoulder. He so hated to give up anything once it was his.

Zau and Posel knew their brother well. This was the real sticking point. Posel had so warned Mundar.

The boy and the boy’s mother, eh? spoke Mundar, into the charged silence. And you have no use for either of them now, really. Only that, and in exchange the boy loses his powers.

But why? countered Hador.

My own grandson and my daughter, after all, murmured Mundar.

You’ve no more use for Manna than I do, Hador said harshly, and the boy — he’s your grandson, but he’s my son. By right I have first —

Exactly, cut in Mundar, but what is first place to possess something, only to destroy it? So. I offer a solution to our problem, and ask for two trifling things, which even together are nothing to any of you.

A long pause ensued, during which Hador looked decidedly mulish. Posel was silent, averse to sounding a false note at this delicate stage. He glanced over at Zau, who was running his fingers through his feathers with an absorbed expression. When Zau’s head swung around to preen his shoulder feathers with his teeth, his gaze fell upon Posel.

Caught out, he straightened his head and willed his fingers still. "Ahem. Hmmm. Well, Hador, this, ah, this bargaining seems to mostly concern you. It makes no difference to me whether you and I keep up the pursuit of the boy, or you strike a deal with this, um, this mudthing here."

Hador roused himself to look fixedly at Zau, Posel and Mundar, each in turn. It went against his grain to give up his half–hold over Manna, but there would be an end to the hunt for the boy — a hunt that was getting increasingly tiresome, and increasingly risky. And this working together that Mundar proposed — it would afford him a rare opportunity to assess Mundar’s power. ‘All in all,’ he thought, ‘there is nothing substantial to be lost, and much to be gained. But it will not do to accept too readily.’

There are many complex details that will have to be worked out, Hador said at last, slowly and gravely.

As soon as Hador and Mundar agreed upon another meeting between themselves, Zau interrupted his preening long enough to turn on Posel. As for you —, he began.

I shay again, countered Posel, that it wash Hador who got ush into thish messh in the firsht placshe. If I hadn’t — 

Let’s await developments, Zau, Hador suggested urbanely, before you settle Posel’s breach.

Zau was not easy to appease. It took a lot of cajolery, including promises of lavish gifts. When Zau finally did agree to a postponement, it was because the urge for a full preen had become irresistible. He hastily called an end to the meeting, and the brothers departed, each at his own pace, in his own way.

Mundar left with Posel.

For Posel, the meeting had been a rare success. For once he had not been reduced to blinding spurts and flows by some outrage perpetrated — sometimes quite deliberately, he knew — by one of his brothers.

His favored son Flar smiled at him as he brought his floating kline up to his waiting entourage. Even from a distance, Flar had seen that his father kept his flows in. There would be no headlong rush back to the watery depths this time.

Mundar spoke very little, as was his wont. He parted from Posel and Flar with a solemn nod, and made his way back to his own domain, skimming over vast misted plains. It was impossible to know his thoughts. It could only be surmised that the meeting had gone as he hoped.

Chapter 2

Surely you would like to visit your mother, Jebal? Eh?

Mark​[2] looked full at his grandfather Mundar, before glancing away to recover from his surprise. Mundar had never l’inged to him about his mother Manna except once, soon after he and his grandfather had first met. At that time Mundar had insisted that she was dead. And she had been dead. Well, sort of . . .

"Both dead and alive. I simply . . . exist here," she had l’inged to him when he met her spirit trapped in the inbetween place.

He still knew almost nothing about her. His uncle Ayinde had barely sketched her out as being good–natured and clever, but rather dreamy, before clamming up. No one felt comfortable talking about her, without Mundar’s express permission.’

But his grandfather was waiting for a reply.

I am curious about her, Grandfather, Mark l’inged, and I, I wish she was free from that, um, place where she is.

He felt obliged to continue when Mundar said nothing. But when I met her there she, well, she didn’t seem to want me there. She didn’t seem to care about me at all.

His grandfather still did not speak, so Mark asked, Would you tell me about her, Grandfather? What she was like? I mean, before you and Hador put her into that, er, place?

Mmmm, not so much to say about her, Mundar l’inged slowly, with an irritated shrug. "Manna. She did what she was supposed to do, until she didn’t do what she was supposed to do."

But there must have been something special about her, Grandfather, because you picked her to care for your lizard.

Mark looked at his grandfather’s lizard, at rest on Mundar’s massive shoulder. ‘Odd,’ Mark thought, ‘how charged the lizard’s eyes are this evening.’

He l’inged, If I visit her, Grandfather, would it have to be where I met her before?

Of course, Grandson. Where else?

Mark thought, ‘I can think of lots of better places, than that inbetween place — half of Mundar, half of Hador. That strange place they made to hold my mother in perpetual suspension. Half of life, half of death.’

Well, I’ll have to think about your, um, idea, Grandfather, Mark l’inged.

Idea?! Mundar rejoined. Oh, no, Jebal. What I mean is that this is an offer which I expect you will accept — your own mother, after all. But — alright — you can let me know at dawn, eh?

Mundar left then for his great nightly walk, for the gathering and giving of life. Mark left the big house also, to go in search of his elder friends Nixt and Taun — the only ones left of the ‘motley’ he had brought here when Mundar agreed to shelter them, in exchange for Mark’s quest to retrieve the lizard.

He found Nixt and Taun by the river, and sat with them in the gathering darkness, telling them of his grandfather’s odd proposal.

I don’t like it, was Taun’s comment​[3]. Mark couldn’t see her face very well in the deepening shadows, but he could easily picture her eyes, sparking with suspicion.

Given his, well, his disenchantment with Manna, she continued, why does he propose anything of the sort? And what could be the reason for rushing you into such a decision? Depend on it, Mark, he’s up to something, and whatever it is, it’s going to cost you something.

He’s always dealt fairly with me, so far, Mark replied.

Well, of course he did, because he needed you to get his lizard back. But now you’ll find that things will go much differently between you and him. That’s what I think, anyway. What about you, Nixt?

Nixt’s voice came out of the darkness, "So much for renting Citi Bikes. And the Macy’s Flower Show — forget about that."​[4]

Nixt was suggesting that this proposal of Mundar’s would effectively cancel the trip to New York City that they’d been planning.

Mundar probably only means a short visit with Manna, Mark replied.

But Nixt continued to be pessimistic, even morose, about the chances for their trip, which was his way of affirming Taun’s wariness.

Mark respected their advice, but he didn’t have the same mistrust of Mundar that they had. His reason for wanting to decline centered instead on his dread of his father’s life–sapping powers, even at half–strength in the inbetween place.

Feeling restless, Mark stopped by Ayinde’s compound before going to bed. He learned that Ayinde knew nothing about Mundar’s proposal, from his surprise when it was mentioned to him. They then spoke of other things, for there was much they felt they had in common.

After Mark left, Ayinde sat alone, pondering his father’s disturbing proposal. He knew he could not fathom the complex workings of such a being as Mundar. His lot was to be capable and strong, and to trust his father. This he also saw as his nephew’s lot, and he had told him so a number of times, including this very evening.

But what Mundar proposed would put Mark in grave danger of injury by Hador. He asked himself, ‘Now that the lizard is back where it is supposed to be, what could be worth putting the boy to that risk?’

He pondered this for a long time, for he was genuinely fond of Mark. But there was nothing he could do. When dawn came Mundar was going to set something highly unusual in motion, and nothing that Ayinde could say or do would alter it in the slightest.

He did play a small, but significant part. That night, Mark used Ayinde’s advice — to trust Mundar