When Chenille Is Not Enough

Soft light, with a sage tint, filtered from the balcony. A floral-scented breeze curled around the room. Edna’s toes scuffed against the carpeted floor.

Cecily cleared her throat. “Please tell us you have a plan, Bozidar.”

“Not really,” he said. His voice was high and airy, and his eyes darted from face to face. “I had an impulse to hide, and this seemed the best place.”

Scott frowned. ”You had an impulse to hide?”

“This isn’t the time to split hairs,” Edna snapped. “I’m about to become a sacrifice-in-waiting because of a war I started.”

A puff of deep crimson smoke circled Bozidar’s head. “You did not start the war,” he said.

“Technically, that’s true,” Edna said. “The blue guy started the war, but I gave him the excuse.”

“That is not precisely true.” Bozidar waved the wisps of smoke away. “There is another aspect of our history that I did not appreciate. The artifact that you presented to me - ”

“Agnes’ thimble,” Cecily said. “Similar to the one she gave your people.”

“Just so,” Bozidar said. “The giving of an artifact could be interpreted as a sign that the recipient is destined for greatness.”

Scott wrapped his chenille around one hand. “How much greatness?”

“More than the blue clan was prepared to accept.” Bozidar rose and paced next to the couch. “In isolation, any of the three events would be considered rude, but not an ultimatum.”

“Three events?” Scott asked. His eyes narrowed.

“The impolitic speech given by the elders,” Bozidar said. He counted on his fingers. “The stotlet ceremony. The giving of the artifact. Since the descendants of She Who Found Us were declaring their leadership over the beige clan, it could be argued that giving me the thimble declared my leadership over our enemies.”

“The blue guy said all that in one word?” Edna asked.

“Ours is a flexible language.” Bozidar stopped pacing. “The beiges and the blues have been courting war for many cycles. Construing the documentary to mean you are the beige leader, and that you wish me to be the blue leader, is as good excuse as any.”

“Except that Edna dies if you lose,” Scott said. “That isn’t going to happen. We’re getting off this planet, and you’re going to help us.”

Bozidar sat. “Of course I will help. At the moment, however, I do not know what to do.”

Salia stepped forward, bowed, and chirped quietly. Bozidar laced his fingers in his lap. He swayed from side to side.

“That is an excellent suggestion,” he said. He chittered to Salia, then addressed the humans. “One of the attendants might be persuaded to assist us. She is an acquaintance of Mercon and Salia. She is also open to bribery.”

“What do we have that she would want?” Cecily asked.

“Your garments.”

“All of them?” Edna asked.

“No,” Bozidar said. “The ceremonial robes should be sufficient.”

Scott massaged his chin. “What can she do to help us?”

“The palace is large, with many passages used primarily by servants. One of my duties when I first began diplomatic service was escorting senior officials from complicated situations.”

“Sneaking people out before anyone could ask questions, you mean,” Scott said.

Bozidar nodded. “I will send Salia to find the attendant, and make arrangements. We will escape tonight.”

“Do we have that much time?” Scott asked. “The way you hustled us in here, I expected soldiers to burst in at any moment.”

“There has been time enough for the guards to report our actions,” Bozidar said. “If the elders had wished it, we would be in custody. They may have no desire to confront their new queen. Perhaps they will rejoice if we disappear.”

***

Scott stood on the balcony, with warm night breezes tousling his hair. Two moons shone in the brilliant purple sky. Stars twinkled, matched by shimmering lights from the streets below. He raked a laser-like beam along the wall, and the roof lines.

“All quiet,” he whispered as he returned to the room. He handed the Schtakian flashlight to Rupon and joined Edna and Cecily on the couch.

“How much longer do we have to wait?” Edna asked. “Have I mentioned it isn’t my best skill?”

“The guards pass by every forty of your minutes,” Bozidar said. “Salia’s contact will arrive when they have moved out of hearing.”

“Which should be soon,” Scott said. “I saw them make their rounds from the balcony. No one is out there now.”

Three quick taps sounded on the door. Dajdar and Mercon slid open the panels. Salia entered, followed by their newly bribed guide.

The guide wore a long, silky jacket with flowing sleeves edged with lace. A narrow ribbon was wrapped like a bracelet on her arm just below the lace. She caressed it and bowed to Cecily.

“I’m glad she likes my hair ribbon,” Cecily said to Bozidar, “but should she wear it now? Won’t she get in trouble if she’s found with one of our possessions?”

“If she is noticed at all, she can say she found the item after our disappearance,” Bozidar said. He shepherded them out of their quarters and into the empty hallway. “We must focus on our own security, and leave others to attend to themselves.”

“She’s risking her life to help us,” Cecily hissed. “You may not care, but I do. And what’s her name?”

“I do not know,” Bozidar said. He cheeped at the attendant, who chirped in reply. “Zenoa. Now hurry, and in silence.”

Bozidar let Zenoa take point, and kept Edna within arm’s reach behind him. Mercon stayed on Edna’s heels, followed by Cecily, Dajdar and Salia. Scott and Rupon brought up the rear. They crept down the hall until it split into two corridors.

At the junction, Bozidar felt around the edge of a seemingly decorative plaque. He slid the side of his hand around the bottom lip until a tiny lever popped out. He pushed the lever forward and slid it diagonally down into the slot from which it had emerged. The plaque glided toward the ceiling as the section of wall beneath it sank into a hidden groove.

“This will take us out of the palace,” Bozidar said.

He stepped aside, motioning Edna toward the passageway. Zenoa blocked her way, and uttered a short series of tiny squeaks.

“What’s wrong?” Edna asked.

“She wants me to go first,” Bozidar said. “If there is a problem, she suggests I should sacrifice myself to protect you.”

“Because I’m the queen?” Edna said. “Tell her I’m as much a queen as she is, and for all I care she can have the job.”

Zenoa shuddered. She bowed her head and chanted.

“I thought you said your clan didn’t learn other languages,” Edna said. “It looks like she understands me just fine.”

“They learn,” Bozidar said. “They do not use them. There is a difference.” He signaled Dajdar and Salia to flank Edna. “If all goes as planned, one of my agents will meet us outside the palace and guide us to the ship. Marsel has agreed to take you back to Earth.”

“Good old Marsel,” Edna said. “How much did you pay him?”

“Edna, hush,” Scott said. “Let’s get a move on.”

The passageway was dark and chilly. Zenoa produced a metal tube tipped with a shiny blue bead from her jacket. She shook the tube, and the bead glowed.

“Wow,” Cecily said. “You wouldn’t think such a small light would make a difference, but it does.”

She shook her head, and continued ahead. She slowed when the passageway split, stretching her eye stalks to peer down each one before choosing her path.

“The route is substantially as I remember,” Bozidar whispered over his shoulder. “We should emerge soon.”

A rolling whine echoed through the corridor. Zenoa flattened herself against the wall and signaled the others to do the same.

“What’s that horrible sound?” Cecily asked.

“Elder Gingon, if I am not mistaken,” Bozidar said. “He always indulges with intoxicants after a stressful session of the council.”

Scott crept past Cecily and Bozidar toward Edna. He wriggled between Dajdar and Salia and grasped Edna’s hand.

Rupon cheeped at Bozidar. When Bozidar nodded, Rupon shoved Mercon toward Scott and Edna. Mercon took position in front of them, with Rupon behind.

“What happens if he finds us?” Cecily whispered.

“The route from the council chambers out of the palace follows another corridor,” Bozidar said. “We should be safe.” He chittered at Zenoa.

Zenoa led the group past another junction. She paused, and at that moment a young guard supporting a slobbering, crooning, robe-wrapped Schtatikian emerged before her. She squealed, and darted down the other passageway.

Mercon screeched like an owl that missed the rabbit, whirled and snatched Edna. He hoisted her above his head and galloped after Zenoa.

Rupon and Dajdar lifted Scott by his elbows and thundered down the corridor. Salia whipped around toward Bozidar, then back to her fleeing companions. She turned her head, chittered to Bozidar, and charged after the others.

The young guard lost his grip on the elder, who sprawled on the floor, blocking Bozidar and Cecily. The guard shouted, but Bozidar leaped at him, grabbed his eye stalks, and twisted. When the guard collapsed, Bozidar kneed him in the midsection. As the guard doubled over, groaning, Bozidar rolled him into a ball like cookie dough and sent him spinning down the corridor.

“Run!” Bozidar shouted as he grabbed Cecily’s hand and sprinted back the way they had come. He hurtled into the first junction they reached, and each one after that, zigging and zagging.

Breathless, Cecily faltered and jerked on Bozidar’s arm. “Wait, where are we?”

Bozidar slowed to a jog, then stopped. “We are near our objective.” He, too, gasped for breath. “There are many routes out of the palace. We are fortunate that I remember most of them.”

“What about Zenoa? Did she take the right corridor?”

He wheezed twice. “I am not certain.”

“Then what’s Plan B?” she asked. “Where do we meet up with Grandma and Scott?”

Bozidar leaned against the wall. “If she has any sense, Zenoa will wait for us at the gathering point.”

Cecily rolled her eyes. “Terrific.”

“We Schtatikians are accustomed to plans succeeding.”

“And how’s that working out for you now?” Cecily swatted him. “Let’s hope you have better success than you did on Earth.”

He pushed away from the wall and led her along another corridor. A breeze drifted around them, and light from the end brightened with each step.

“We are here,” he said as they approached a grated archway. He twisted one of the slender rods in its socket. The grate vibrated and slid into the wall.

They trotted up a gentle slope to the street. Bozidar hugged the walls of the palace. Cecily followed close behind him. At his signal, they sprinted across the street and into the shadows. They crept along the deserted alleyways, dashing from one hiding place to another, until they reached a garden. Bozidar whistled three times, and a swaddled form stepped away from a tree.

“Where are the others?” Marsel asked. He pulled the fabric from his head, allowing his eye stalks to maneuver freely.

“We were separated during the escape,” Cecily said. “Are you speaking English, or do you have a translator?”

Marsel tugged on the fabric around his shoulders, revealing a smaller version of Bozidar’s black box hanging around his neck on a braided silky cord.

“Do you have another one? I could really use it,” Cecily said.

“The keeper of supplies aboard ship can provide you with one, although it will not be necessary there,” Marsel said.

“I expected someone else to meet us,” Bozidar said.

“I felt uneasy with your choice,” Marsel said. “Perhaps the gods were sending me a warning. My crew will not leave without me, so we may wait for the others to arrive without concern for the time.”

“Is there any way we can get in touch with Grandma and Scott?” Cecily asked. “They might need our help.”

Marsel trained both eye stalks on Bozidar. “What new danger have you plunged me into?”

“I do not know,” Bozidar hissed as he dragged Marsel and Cecily deeper into the shadows. “Shouting will not lessen the danger.”

They huddled next to the tree. Bozidar circled the trunk, peering into the distance. They held their breath and kept silence.

“I don’t hear anyone,” Cecily said. “Is there a guard in this park?”

“No,” Bozidar said, his gaze fixed in the direction of the palace. “It is why I chose it for a meeting place.”

“You watch for Grandma and Scott,” Cecily said, patting Bozidar’s arm. “Here’s what happened, Marsel.”

“Shush!” Bozidar snarled between gritted teeth.

She wrinkled her nose, but lowered her voice. “We were sneaking out of the palace, but this drunk official - ”

" - Elder Gingon,” Bozidar muttered. “Thrice damned - ”

“Yes, we get the picture,” Cecily said. “So Elder Gingon stumbles in on us, falling down drunk. Bozidar flattened the guard, and Zenoa bolted. She took Grandma and Scott with her, which I understand, what with Grandma being the new queen. But Bozidar took a different route. So here we are.”

Marsel’s eye stalks disappeared in his shroud. One eyeball peeked out. “Edna is the queen?”

Cecily giggled. “I’d hug you if I could find you inside all that fabric.” She patted the shroud in the area of Marsel’s shoulder. “Don’t panic. Grandma doesn’t want to be queen. It’s a mistake. Once we get off this planet, things will go back to normal.”

The eyeball disappeared in the fabric. “That is not encouraging.”

Bozidar learned against the trunk. “Your courage is a never-ending source of strength for us all.”

Cecily batted at Bozidar. “Don’t tease him. But, you know, there’s a question I forgot to ask. If Grandma Edna is the new queen, what happened to the old one?”

“We have not had a queen for many cycles,” Bozidar said. “The bureaucracy does not require one to function.”

“So how can Grandma become queen? More important, why does anyone care, if the government runs fine without royalty?” Cecily asked.

“The traditions of our clan are ancient and complicated,” Bozidar said. “We have survived the depletion of the royal line before. We are often happiest when there are no queens or kings. Were I on the council of elders, I would rescind the rules of succession.”

“Heresy!” Marsel squeaked. His eye stalks reappeared as he swept the fabric from his head. “To consider changing our traditions for mere happiness!”

Cecily stared at Marsel, then addressed Bozidar. “That explains so much about your people.”

A hint of movement and a soft cheeping sound caught their attention. Bozidar nudged Cecily behind him as he stepped toward the noise. He chittered.

“It’s Salia,” he said as she scampered toward them.

“Where’s my grandmother?” Cecily asked when Bozidar pulled her into the shadows. “Are she and Scott okay?”

Salia pulled the group deeper into the park, chittering as she dragged Cecily with her. Marsel lifted the hem of his robes but still struggled to keep up.

“Stop,” Bozidar ordered when they reached a grouping of rose-like plants surrounded by a hedge. “Marsel, can your device translate for Salia?”

“Forgive me. I was thoughtless,” Marsel said as he adjusted the settings. “Repeat your story for Cecily.”

“Your family is safe,” Salia said. “We escaped without injury, but the path Zenoa chose emerged on the other side of the palace. The risk of discovery was too great for all of us to come here. She sent me alone, to assure you that she will protect the queen and her consort until your return.”

“My return?” Cecily asked. “What do you mean?”

Salia grabbed Cecily’s hand. “Zenoa instructed me to ask for your assistance. You must come back to Schtatik with your mother. The three of you must be together.”

“Why?” Bozidar asked.

Salia drew herself taller. “I was not informed of the reason. My task is to relay Zenoa’s request.” She leaned toward them. “She is more than a servant. She is a taupe agent, from an excellent family.”

Bozidar stared at Salia, jaw open. Marsel shivered. Cecily let her hand go limp in Salia’s grasp.

“Please, it is time to go,” Salia said. “We must reach the ship and complete the mission.”

Bozidar snapped his mouth shut and straightened his back. “On that we agree,” he said. “Marsel, lead the way. We’re going to Earth.”

***

Marsel paced on the bridge. He toddled forward five steps, turned, went back and forth, turned, and toddled five steps back.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” Cecily said.

“The floor is a composite of metal, stone and asteroid dust. It is the most durable substance in the galaxy. How can I possibly damage it?” Marsel said.

“She is using an Earth expression. Its meaning is not contained in the words, but in the vocalization,” Bozidar said. “It is intended as a calming mechanism.”

“Our clan is at war with the blues, our cousins have gone into hiding, Edna is the new queen, and we have stolen Snapping Shellfish. In what universe would this situation call for calm?”

The crew member at the communications console said, “Sir, you asked to be informed when we were within range of Earth. We have reached that point.”

“Great,” Cecily said. “Show me again what symbols I need to punch.”

Bozidar established the connection. “Please make your conversation short. The elders will be monitoring this frequency.”

“I’ll do my best,” Cecily said. She drummed her fingers against the console. “Come on, come on, pick up.”

Susan’s face appeared on the monitor. “Hi, sweetie! How are things in space?”

“Oh, fine, fine. The stars are really great.”

Bozidar snapped his fingers. “Quickly, please!”

Cecily nodded. “Hey, Mom, you know how we were supposed to keep Grandma in line so she didn’t start a war? Well, turns out we didn’t have to worry. Grandma was on her best behavior.”

“Really? That’s great news!”

“Yeah, but it didn’t matter.”

“Oh?” Susan’s voice fell, and the expression in her eyes broadcast panic across the void of space.

Cecily cleared her throat. “Funniest thing, you’ll never guess. You know how we thought having us eat the spumoni would show we were in charge?”

“Yes.” The three letters stretched out to several syllables.

“It really did. Show we were in charge, I mean. Oh, and the bit with the thimble? That meant more than forgiveness.”

“Cecily, tell me what happened. Now.”

“The beige elders have declared Grandma Edna their new queen, the blues claim we were declaring that Bozidar should be their leader - the blue’s leader, not the beige’s - and now the blues are at war with the beiges. Bozidar bribed an attendant to get us out, but things got complicated. Grandma and Scott are in hiding. Bozidar and I are headed back to Earth with Marsel.”

A siren shrieked in the control room, and the light turned from pale peach to hot pink.

“Sorry, Mom, got to go.” Cecily forced a smile and cut the connection.

***

Gary turned on the light as he entered the living room. “Why are you sitting in the dark, hon?” He placed a silver shopping bag next to Susan on the couch. “You’ll never guess what I found. Well, I didn’t, the make-up assistant on the commercial we we’re shooting did. I told her about what Olivia and Eleanor wanted to do in the wedding and she told me about this great store.”

Susan stared at the black box on the coffee table.

He stopped talking, removed the bag and sat next to her. Taking her hands, he said softly, “What’s wrong?”

“I have to go to Schtatik.” Her voice was quiet and calm, like the air before a hurricane roars onto land.

“Why?” he asked.

“Edna started a war there, and I have to stop it.”

“How? With what?”

“I have no idea,” she said. “But I’d better figure something out, because this is definitely a time when chenille is not enough.”

About the authors

Ann Anastasio plays with fabric in Santa Fe, New Mexico where she is a docent at the Museum of International Folk Art. She also plays the viola in two orchestras and a string quartet and is a founder of Art Quilt Santa Fe Retreats (www.artquiltsantafe.com) with Gale Oppenheim-Pietrzak. Ann is a member of Studio Art Quilt Associates (SAQA).

Lani Longshore writes a weekly blog - Lani Longshore’s Blog (www.lanilongshore.wordpress.com). Ann was her first quilt teacher. Together with Evelyn Judson, they created Broken Dishes Repertory Theatre, a quilting vaudeville troupe that entertained quilt guilds for many years. Lani is a member of Studio Art Quilt Associates (SAQA), a charter member of the California Writers Club Tri-Valley Branch, and a third-degree black belt in karate.