Jim Henson’s The Dark Crystal Author Quest (2 page)

Kairn had never attended a Podling banquet. He was thus unprepared for the cacophony of clanking dishes and the hurricane of heavy aromas. He was equally unprepared for the dancers who spun around the room, bumping into each other and knocking over the steaming cauldrons that were scattered haphazardly around the floor.

He'd heard the music before. A Podling minstrel had once come to Hallis many trines ago and played at a feast. Still, he had never heard so
much
of it. In one corner, two old Podlings played wooden flutes; the jig from the first player's flute twirled around the other's solemn march. Elsewhere, two drummers pounded away while dancers stomped in circles to their rhythms. Atop a table, two young Podlings picked at long, stringed instruments whose dreamy tunes calmed Kairn.

As they crossed the banquet hall, Parra grabbed every Podling's arm, anxious to introduce them to Kairn. The Podlings, who had been so eager to meet Kairn when he arrived in the village that morning, didn't have a moment to spare for him, as they were consumed by the banquet. Kairn tried hard not to mind, and Parra seemed not to notice.

Between introductions, Parra attempted to explain the name and meaning of each new item they passed, but he spoke too fast for Kairn to make out much of anything. Either the flutes the Podlings played or the tassels that hung from their sleeves were called dalamoys, and either Parra's cousin or his childhood tutor was named Alay. He also heard that the dinner would have been something that sounded like
razmizz with a nebrina demi-glaze
, but the Nebrie couldn't be milked today. The connection between the two events was never made clear, but Parra apologized deeply and so Kairn forgave excessively, if confusedly.

Parra was handsome for a Podling. He had an earthy skin tone and thick auburn hair that jumped in every direction, the fashion for Podlings at the time. His brown teardrop eyes dominated his face, which was relatively sharp in comparison to those of the doughy Podlings. Standing at attention in the road in his dirty Podling farmer clothes, he had looked ridiculous to Kairn, but Kairn felt now that he had underestimated Parra. He was different from other Podlings; he had a hunger that a banquet couldn't satisfy.

Parra and Kairn eventually reached the head table, which was raised high above the floor and nestled close to the dark clay wall. Parra explained that the head table, which he called a mizzenmens, was a great honor for guests and a Podling tradition that he believed dated back to before they had even learned the song to harvest turblaroots. Orritch and his wife were seated already—they were the only members of the banquet who were. Instead of sitting to eat, the other Podlings dipped wooden ladles into a giant vat of a boiling soup and gulped a mouthful down with a grin before they returned to the dance floor. Their first several steps were leaps and hops while grabbing their throats. The Podlings always seemed surprised by the soup's temperature, as if they expected it to cool in the few moments between gulps.

Kairn could see that Orritch hated being one of the few Podlings seated at the banquet. His eyes ricocheted around the room, catching each laugh, each fall, each new dish. Kairn insisted that Orritch rise and join the other Podlings, but only Orritch's preeminent manners could compete with his love of drinking, carousing, and dancing. “Absolutely not. What could any Podling enjoy more than to show the famous hospitality of Greggan to a Gelfling warrior like you?”

Orritch's wife sat serenely at the table. In every conversation, her head would turn mechanically to face the speaker, and she would offer her exceedingly composed smile. Kairn could not decide if this habit indicated tranquility or vacuity. In any case, she was the only Podling whom Kairn had ever considered beautiful. She had aged gracefully, and her face's smooth curves glided into each other harmoniously. Her straight red hair, though not as long as a female Gelfling's, touched the top of her back.

Orritch jumped when he noticed Kairn looking at his wife. “My manners! You haven't met my pride and joy yet. You know, Kairn, the little Podlings in the village always come up to me and say, ‘Lord Orritch'—they call me Lord, you see—‘tell us a war story! Tell us about the expeditions to the north.' Then I have to correct them and tell them that the fighting in the north was greatly exaggerated and the real fighting was done in the east. You don't hear enough about the expedition to the east, I say—I don't need to tell you that, of course! But in any case, then they clamor for a story about the fighting done in the east, and I have to tell them, ‘Boys, the greatest fight of my life was not in the east. No, the greatest fight in my life was getting this one to fall in love with me.'”

He squeezed his wife, whose smile grew slightly more warm. “This beauty is Falavam, which means ‘thank you' in our language, but I always say that I should be the one thanking her.”

Kairn bowed. “I am honored, Falavam.” She bowed in return but remained silent.

At that moment, a parade of Podling servers waddled in from the kitchen. Some carried red or blue pots on their heads; others were hidden behind tall stacks of dishes. One strong Podling held an enormous jar of wine in each hand. The tabletop, which had been bare except for a few cups, was suddenly transformed into a feast fit for the Castle of the Crystal. Dishes and bowls, chalices and cups, knives and spoons, were all placed before the four diners of the mizzenmens. One by one, the jolly servers lifted the lids of the pots and steam flooded out. Kairn had never tried Podling food before, but from a mix of curiosity and good breeding, he accepted everything. Soon his bowls were filled with shimmering soups, his chalice with wine, his plates with turblaroots and vegetables, and his cups with ale and a pale milk.

Orritch struggled to eat as slowly as he could. It wasn't natural for him, but he wanted to appear dignified before his distinguished Gelfling guest. “Kairn, tell me about your journey. Where have you been? Where are you going?”

Kairn straightened in his chair and assumed his soldierly bearing. “I have been on a trine's journey, traveling all of Thra.”

Parra almost dropped his soup, which he had been guzzling directly from the bowl. “All of Thra! Where have you been?”

“I visited most of the Gelfling clans. It was the last step in my education as a warrior. I had to learn all of Thra, so I could protect Her. I have slept in the wilderness, spent nights in the desert, and tamed a wild Landstrider.” Kairn paused to enjoy their amazement. “Would you like to hear the story of this scar?” He rolled up his sleeve and pointed to a long scar up his arm. Parra, who had hardly ever left Greggan, was struck dumb and nodded at the visitor. “I was sailing with a band of Sifa Gelfling on the Silver Sea. They were fishermen, but that day, we were out to catch some Thrakars.”

“Thrakars? The sea monsters? Those are real?” Parra asked.

“They're real, and they're ferocious!” Kairn answered. Parra shuddered. “They have long, narrow mouths with hidden teeth that don't appear until their jaws decide to snap. They have hard scales, harder than a boulder in the Valley of Stones, and their whole body is a cold purple. They dwell deep at the bottom of the sea, but when they're hungry, they come straight to the surface. Through the water, you can see just their angry, yellow eyes coming closer, and closer, and closer, faster, and faster, and faster.”

Kairn could tell that Parra's family loved the thrill of vicarious terror. He paused before resuming his story: “A storm came, one of those sudden, terrible storms you'd only find on the Silver Sea. I had climbed to the top of the ship's mast to free a rope that had been caught, but on my way down, two Thrakars banged hard against the ship, and I flew off the mast. I nearly fell overboard, but I grabbed on to a fishing spear that was hanging over the edge of the ship. I climbed back into the ship and the tip of the spear sliced into my arm on my way up. I spilled a lot of blood in the sea that day, but the Thrakars paid for each drop dearly. It's okay, Parra, you can touch the scar.”

Orritch left the table to find the other Podling leaders, pulling them by their arms away from their wives and their tankards of ale. They were all reluctant to sit still during such a great banquet, but Orritch pledged on his ancestors' souls that they would want to hear what Kairn had to say. The table soon became crowded with the tiny Podling noblemen, joyful and gray.

“Tell us another tale from your travels, Kairn,” Orritch pleaded. “Brother Podlings, Kairn just told us about hunting Thrakars with Sifa Gelfling on the Silver Sea.”

“Who are Sifa Gelfling?” one Podling nobleman asked.

Orritch squinted disdainfully at him. “I'm sorry, Kairn. You don't have to answer that. Many of these Podlings haven't traveled much.”

“No, it's fine. The Sifa Gelfling are a tribe that lives near the Silver Sea. Excellent fishermen. They're hardy and practical, but also magical. They keep them hidden, but it's said that the Sifa Gelfling always carry magical charms in their pockets.”

The fattest Podling laughed. “I got a magical charm in my pocket, too!” He farted.

All the Podlings, even Falavam, laughed, but Parra's and Orritch's nostrils flared, signaling their embarrassment. Kairn looked uncertain but smiled courteously.

“In any case, perhaps I can tell the story of my visit to the Drenchen clan. They are swamp Gelfling. They were the first Gelfling I visited after I left the Castle of the Crystal. I had just—”

“The Castle of the Crystal?” the oldest Podling at the table asked. “You were at the Castle of the Crystal?”

“I spent many trines at the Castle of the Crystal. It was my honor,” Kairn replied, waiting hopefully for the awkwardness that would occur when the others realized his importance. The Podlings began whispering to each other, hastily swinging from one's ear to another's. Kairn was used to such a reaction. In Thra there were only so many jobs for a warrior, and service at the Castle of the Crystal was the most prestigious position.

“What did you do at the Castle of the Crystal?” asked the fattest Podling, much less jovial than the last time he had spoken. Kairn wondered if his tone carried a trace of jealousy.

“I am in line to become the Imperial Guardian.”

The Podlings frowned at each other. The oldest asked, “Why would a Gelfling from the Spriton clan be working at the Castle of the Crystal? Are not Gelfling from the Woodland clan the castle guards?”

Kairn fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, Gelfling from the Woodland clan are the castle guards. My family, however, has protected skekSo the Emperor himself as his personal guardian since the Second Great Conjunction. My father brought me to the castle when I had passed four trines. I have spent all but the summers there since. I received my education at the court, both from my father and from the Skeksis. I even learned a few things on swordsmanship from the Woodland clan guards. Once I had completed my education at the court, I took my trine-long journey across Thra. My father believes that a man truly completes his education once he has traveled. SkekSo agrees. I will see my clan the day after tomorrow, then return to the Castle of the Crystal to assume my post as the Imperial Guardian to skekSo.”

Orritch stared glumly at the table. The fattest Podling clenched his fists. The old Podling slowly shook his head and drummed his wrinkled fingers. Even Parra would not make eye contact with Kairn.

Finally Kairn realized that they were not envious but rather troubled. He watched the Podlings sigh to themselves and murmur to each other, casting angry looks at him. He wondered what he had said to upset them so deeply. “What's wrong?” he asked. “In my clan, we value loyalty to the Castle of the Crystal; we value those who protect the Skeksis.”

“I'm sorry, Kairn. It's not your fault—you don't know,” Parra said. Though he had addressed Kairn, he had looked only at the other Podlings.

“What do you mean, I don't know? What don't I know? I have lived most of my life in the Castle of the Crystal—there is nothing I don't know about the castle, or the Skeksis.”

The oldest Podling examined Kairn intently. His solemn, gentle grace unwound Kairn's bravado, the conceit he had developed at the castle where he ordered around the Woodland guards and enjoyed the Emperor's special favor. He tried hard to conceal his unease.

The elderly Podling finally spoke: “How great is your loyalty to the Emperor and the Skeksis?”

“I swore on my honor, on my life, and on the sacred names of my ancestors. I have no intention to break such an oath,” Kairn replied quickly.

The old nobleman nodded slowly. “What do you know of the Emperor and the Skeksis?”

Defensive and suspicious, Kairn replied, “I know that they have served the Gelfling and the Podlings well. I know that it was the Skeksis who taught the Sifa clan to narrow their prows and expand their sails. I know that it was the Skeksis who taught the Dousan clan to find water in the desert of the Crystal Sea. I know that it was the Skeksis who taught the Podlings to milk the Nebrie. I know that the Skeksis have been great patrons to both of our villages—extravagant and eccentric, perhaps, but always generous. And I know that the Emperor has treated my family well, bestowing upon us titles and wealth and the honor due to great warriors. Above all, I know they protect Thra by guarding the Crystal.”

Parra winced. Kairn instantly realized that he had lost his temper and had been shouting at his Podling hosts. He lowered his head before the old Podling. “Forgive me, sir. Tell me your name, so that I may apologize properly.”

The old Podling touched Kairn's head with the tips of his tiny, gnarled fingers. “I am Donam. Please, there is no need to bow. We are all sons and daughters of Thra.”

Kairn shook his head but could not look up from the floor. “No, Donam. I beg your forgiveness. I have spoken harshly in your village, in a banquet you arranged for me in your great hospitality. Orritch, I beg your forgiveness as well. To act as I have, especially in front of your wife and son, does not befit a Gelfling of the Spriton clan, much less the successor to the Imperial Guardian or a descendant of my great-grandfather Kastor.”