“Why does this calabash glow?” Tracia asked. She had picked it up and was holding the biggest bulbous end in one hand as she moved the smaller bulb at the top, inspecting it for anything connected to it that might be supplying Essence.
“Why are you grabbing things like a child?” Agê said and she shrunk to average aziza size, though Tracia had to look up into her eyes. “I guess you are still just a child.” Agê continued as she snatched the calabash from Tracia and replaced it on the shelf in its normal resting place.
“I’m not a child,” Tracia protested. “I am the heir of Golden Trumpet and all the azizas respect me.”
“Child,” Agê said with pity, “respect and fear are not the same thing.”
Tracia didn’t quite understand and pouted her lips. She was still a child and her features that would mature into beauty, were still rounded and cute.
They were inside of Agê’s perch on top of the lofted city of the House of Agê, that was constructed in the dense canopy straddling the divide between the jungle and the forest side.
Tracia eyed the calabash on the wooden bookshelf amongst other curios belonging to Agê; some larger and more resplendent than the calabash, other things were unassuming and innocuous. The ceiling of the room was high and Tracia could not see everything on the tall shelf. The room was mostly empty, but there was wooden furniture with comfortable pillows around. There were also large windows that framed the awe-inspiring view of the Disc Agê lorded over.
Agê snapped her fingers to get Tracia’s attention.
“You are not here to play with my magical items, especially not that one. I have invited you here because you are a special aziza. So special, you hardly fit the kin.”
Tracia had grabbed a strand of her curly hair and was moving it around her fore fingers, alternating between two hands. She fought the urge to look at the calabash on the shelf, and she focused on Agê. Golden Trumpet had told her since she was born that she would be as beautiful as Agê, though it was hard to imagine to the adolescent Tracia who admired the femininity of Agê with her dark brown skin, full and curvy, humanoid form. She had bark armor at her chest that wrapped her torso, and she wore a bark helmet that caused her hair to puff up around the back of the helmet like it was lined with it. Agê’s face was round, her nose wide and flat, cheekbones high, lips full, and eyes sharp. Tracia was like a baby bird, mostly clumsy with her wings as they seemed to grow faster than she grew taller.
“There are a few others like you and I have given even fewer the same blessing that I have given you. I cannot give the Mmoatia, the portion of the kin of azizas born with feathered wings that is most like you and your sisters, more than one Third Heart. That will only cause jealousy; thankfully you are more closely associated with the First Aziza. Do you understand what I am saying, Tracia?”
She nodded. “You see potential in the daughters of the first dwellers of the trees. We are like a second generation, seemingly created in your image, even if you didn’t have a direct hand in our conception and births. You are afraid to openly embrace us because the power structures that already existed among the communities that first emerged on the Disc will feel slighted and this could lead to extreme violence. I understand, venerated mother.” Tracia bowed, and because she knew that she had given a superb answer, she allowed herself to look at the gently glowing calabash on the far away shelf.
“I admire the strength of you Mmoatia, but there is strength in abundance on the Disc of Agê. There is power in abundance in the Endlands. What I admire most about you particular Mmoatia is your intelligence. I see great things in your future, Tracia. You must prove yourselves, of course, though I doubt you will have much trouble. Your Essence can scrub anything from existence. Let it go, I would like to see it.”
Tracia let go of her Essence, a shimmering, golden cloud of glitter that she gave soft edges to avoid the scrubbing effect of the sharp edges she could create in anger. With focus, Tracia could direct her Essence to slice anything at a microscopic level and leave a wisp of dust in its wake.
“Excellent,” Agê said with genuine admiration in her voice. She was proud of this daughter of her disc. “Truly unique.”
As her Essence dissipated, Tracia looked at the calabash.
“Do you know what it is?” Agê asked. “You can’t keep your eyes off that thing.”
“I’m sorry, venerated mother,” Tracia said and half bowed with embarrassment. “I have never seen anything like it. It calls to me.”
Agê smiled at the young Aziza, Mmoatia, or was she a Yumbo? She could be anything, Agê decided.
“That calabash grew ripe in the Northern Jungle, near the spot where Golden Trumpet rooted on her throne. She noticed it first, said that it did not talk to her, it was an inert fruit of a plant, but Golden Trumpet said that she felt something off of it, much like you do. The day that it fell from the plant from which it grew, Golden ordered her soldiers to recover it, and it had survived the fall intact and unharmed, still glowing. She had it sent to me and I’ve kept it.”
“Is it special like me and my sisters?” Tracia asked.
Agê nodded slowly. “I can’t say for sure because I refuse to damage it, but I would guess that something spectacular is inside of that calabash. Something expansive.”
“You will never open it to see what is inside?” Tracia asked.
“It is alive, Tracia,” Agê said seriously and stood between the calabash and the young aziza. “I wouldn’t cut you open to see what makes you so special. It may not speak, but the calabash is alive. You should understand that, your mother is the glorious Golden Trumpet.”
Tracia was very embarrassed and looked down at the wooden floor at her feet.
“Please forgive me, venerated mother. I respect the life of the calabash and I do not wish it any harm to satisfy my curiosity.”
“I know that your curiosity got the best of you. Does the calabash show you anything when you concentrate on it?”
Agê stepped aside as she asked and Tracia stared at the calabash. As she stared at it, she could feel some part of her being drawn into it and it got larger in her vision before she was inside of it, floating in dark space spotted with stars. She slowly rotated, taking in the awesome view, until she felt herself pulled in many directions and the many versions of herself were drawn to the worlds of this space to witness the beings on those worlds where the Endlands had encroached into this space. Each version of herself witnessed an entire history, present, and future at the locations to which they were drawn, but she was shaken out of that spectacular vision before she became her whole self. She was on her back looking up at the vaulted wooden ceiling of Agê’s perch.
“You started to convulse,” Agê said with concern. “What did you see?”
“I saw everything, but it was too much at once, and it wasn’t the Endlands,” Tracia said.
Agê walked over to the shelf and removed the calabash. She gave it to Tracia.
“Consider it a gift from your mother,” Agê said, “and always keep it safe. I fear that damaging it would have disastrous consequences. But it is clear that this calabash belongs to you. Proceed with caution, Tracia. Divination can be a tricky thing. I will be watching. I’m sure that you will impress me.”
***
The large Aziza mound was busy. From a distance, it looked like a large, dark brown rock formation that rose from the lush green foliage around it, but was still contained underneath the tall canopy of the jungle. Though the surface of the mound was dark brown, the streams of darker dots moved in two swaths along the surface were visible; one went up to the tip of the mound that opened like a volcano and to other openings on the surface leading inside, and the other went down to the jungle floor. It was like a large anthill swarming with ants, but instead of insects, the streaming dark dots were azizas in all shapes and sizes, most with tree brown skin, some in slightly lighter or darker tones, some with opaque wings, and none but Tracia with feathered wings.
“I don’t want to go,” Tracia said, staring at the swarming Mound of the First Azizas from a distance. “There’s so many of them, I’ve never seen so many of anything before. There must be more azizas than anything in the Endlands.”
“You all reproduce quickly…”
“Not me,” Tracia said and her face balled with anger; her eyes narrowed, her eyebrows furrowed, her lips pursed tightly and angled up on the right side into a snarl. “They like me to prance around for special occasions, and when there is a threat to the hive they use me like a trained eloko to defend them, but they never call me aziza.”
Nille rubbed her jaw against the skin of Tracia’s forearm hoping to soothe her obvious anger. Tracia liked the feel of Nille’s hair and she took a deep breath.
“You are whatever you say you are, Excellence,” Nille said. “And there are some azizas who are happy to claim you, the old ones love you.”
Tracia wrapped an arm around Nille’s mane and hugged her affectionately. The long, sharp horn on Nille’s nose began to glow slightly light blue, and the smaller horn on the bridge of her nose released a light blue glitter of her essence. Nille was tall for an abada, she stood about seven feet tall from her hooves to the tip of her head, but Tracia stood over six feet.
“You’re a good friend,” she said with a sigh. “We should just turn around. We could go visit one of my sisters. Pultine’s Earther swamp is quaint when it isn’t hot and muggy. Ahdis’s Deep Ocean is always a wonder, but it might be difficult to get you down there. Have you heard about the bush of ghosts? I hear it is a very wild and exciting place.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nille said. “The aziza mound is much better than that bush and anything in the Earther realm. Practically everyone worships you here, you are the Excellent Tracia of the Mysterious Lightning, daughter of the great Golden Trumpet and the First Aziza. You are the Supreme Mmoatia, sworn protector of the Disc of Agê. Let’s go, I’m hungry for the feast they always lay out upon the arrival of your Supreme Excellence. And we could use some rest in a comfortable place, and the gifts they lavish you with for divining for them.”
“All empty gestures meant to keep me at arm’s length. I’m like a totem to be worshiped, not a daughter to be loved and hugged and truly welcomed. Agê forbid I turn my wrath on all of them.”
Nille nudged Tracia away from her, pushing against Tracia’s body with her own.
“Don’t say that,” Nille said seriously. “I understand your bad associations with the mound, your history is unnecessarily tragic, but this is your home. You’re lucky to have one.”
“I know,” Tracia said and kicked at the grass around her feet with a pout on her face. “I’m sorry, I take it all for granted, I know. Since I found my sisters, I haven’t cared to be part of aziza society. My father would be sad to know that if he were still alive. He was proud of all of this and he wanted me to love it like he did, even if he never loved me. But I am the Supreme now and my sisters are taking care of the portion of the Disc that gave them life, even Pultine from another realm, and it is my duty to do the same. So I’ll put on my prettiest face, close my mouth, and do my duty. But only for you, Nille. I play my part because it allows me to give you a home as well. But honestly, sister, and this is the last of my complaints, I promise, the azizas don’t need me hanging around, they’ve been here for so long because they know how to take care of themselves. As a matter of fact, that will be my new mission, to find us a better base of operations to serve a community that actually needs us. And preferably a community that isn’t obsessed with me divining for them with the Du. But that is for later. After you, Nille, time to do my duty.”
Nille trotted off toward the mound, deftly hopping over tree roots and vines; Tracia flapped her wings and hovered overhead.
As they neared the mound, they passed azizas who noticed Tracia and instantly dropped to one knee out of respect. She nodded down at each one humbly, but she only stopped if the azizas implored her.
“Please, your excellence, bless these sprouts with your Essence!” one aziza begged.
“Your excellence!” another Aziza begged, “restore the use of my limbs! I was crushed in a terrible accident and cannot repair myself.”
“Get away from that thing!” Tracia heard an aziza scream and she watched the aziza grab the arm of a sapling then drag them away. “Don’t beg a devil for its curses. Let’s go.”
Tracia pressed on. The majority of the azizas viewed her as a benevolent force, but those who feared her, thought she was pure evil.
Nille walked proudly before Tracia, like she was a herald of the Supreme, as they made their way into a large entrance carved into the mound that allowed access to the inside from ground level. Inside was cool and glowing moss lit the cavernous inside that was busy with azizas going about their business in the buildings carved into the dirt, and the walkway leading up to higher levels of the mound.
“I should pay my respect to the Idols before I bring out the cards,” Tracia said and Nille nodded. Tracia floated to land on Nille’s back as they made their way through crowds that mostly admired them from a distance. Tracia and Nille were a sight to behold among the relatively small azizas who were half Tracia’s height, but they made their way through the well worn footpaths in the dirt and up the large ramps of soil, then through tunnels until they arrived at a large plateau that opened out to a spectacular view of the jungle. There was a large structure on the plateau that was like a welcome center or museum of the First Aziza Mound, and the Aziza Idols presided there. The Idols were the oldest living azizas and they lived in the museum to visit with any azizas who visited them and offered respect for their wisdom. The oldest Idol was over five thousand Earther years old. They had no wings and they had all shrunk to half the size of the average Aziza at just a foot tall in their advanced age; all Endlanders perished naturally by shrinking out of existence. Their skin was dark brown and wrinkled and they used canes to get around. Most wore robes that hid their feet and they seemed to glide with the aid of the cane when they moved fast.
Nille entered the largest room of the welcome center and the room fell silent.
“Tracia!” she heard a voice yell loudly over the sparse crowd, and then she heard the tiny thud of small feet on the floor of compacted soil.
As Tracia dismounted Nille, they were surrounded by seven Idols in their robes, most wore hoods and their eyes were obscured as they looked up at her, all noses and bright smiles. Tracia knelt before them, her brown, feathered wings spread at her back and casting the small idols in shadow.
“Tracia, my good girl!” Jeje said excitedly. He was the smallest of all of the Aziza Idols and his cheeks were smooth and light brown, even though there were neat wrinkles in his nose and at the corners of his smile. “Your father would be so proud of the wonder you have grown up to be. And our Supreme no less, tamer of the overzealous lepusraj, her Excellence. Oh, you can’t imagine how happy it makes us to hear tales of your brave journeys around the Disc, and even to the deep oceans of Agbe. These idiots,” Jeje said and waved his staff around to indicate the azizas watching Tracia in reverential silence, “call you a Mmoatia, what is that? You are the greatest daughter of the azizas, of this very mound. You and your sisters. I like that Pultine. You must bring her to the mound for a visit.”
“I promise,” Tracia said. “I will drag her here myself the next time she’s home. You know she spends so much time…”
“At the Earther Swamp!” Jeje and the other Idols said in unison and then they all laughed together with joy. “We love reading about Pultine’s adventures with the Earthers. She is so brave, just like an Aziza.”
Tracia hated the scrolls that circulated around the Endlands that detailed the fictitious exploits of various Endlanders of note. There was an ongoing story of the Supremes that started shortly after Tracia and her sisters made a show of force before the Zomo Monarchy to become Agê’s official stewards of her disc and her second in command. The scrolls had worked to engender a favorable view of the Supreme Mmoatia, but Tracia hated the stories that the writers came up with. None of it was accurate, but it seemed beneath her to try and correct the record so she left it alone.
“I can’t wait to bring her here to meet you all, then,” Tracia said, burying her true feelings. “I came to do some diving with my deck and the calabash on the plateau. I know that it has been a while since I’ve seen you all, so I wanted to come spend some time. Nille and I will sleep here at the center if that is ok?”
“Of course, we wouldn’t have it any other way. I thought I felt your calabash,” Jeje said with a smile. “I remember seeing it near your mother when you were growing up. Such a singular energy, just like you. What does it tell you about the azizas? Will we continue to be strong into the future?
Tracia stood to retrieve her calabash from the storage sack that Nille carried on her back, and then she knelt with it and placed it on the ground in front of the Idols. Jeje and the others surrounded it in a semi-circle in front of Tracia and their mouths were open in wonder. It seemed every mouth was open with wonder in the center as every Aziza watched with wonder.
Tracia sat with her legs crossed and she focused on the calabash. Soon, she was accosted by visions of a large number of azizas in a large tree with an elaborate structure built into its canopy that appeared at the edge of a forest, an Earther forest. The visions were rapid, as though the tree regularly appeared and disappeared from its spot on the edge of the Earther forest, and then the vision slowed to one particular time when the tree appeared on Earth. That time, there were Earthers maybe, maybe something else, and there were enough of them to ambush the azizas who were much smaller than the mysterious beings. All of the azizas were captured in nets like they were dangerous beasts and dragged away before the tree disappeared again.
Tracia shook herself out of the disturbing vision.
“What did you see?” Jeje asked and he approached Tracia. “Tell me you saw where I left my pipe, I’ve been looking for it everywhere.”
“It’s too big for you now anyway,” one of the other Idols joked.
“Do you know of a tree that disappears to the Earther realm for a short time before it returns here to the Endlands?” Tracia asked, trying not to give any indication of her concern at her vision.
“No,” Jeje said and he looked to the other Idols who seemed as confused by the question as he was. “Is there such a tree?”
Tracia was frustrated. She had been using the calabash to glimpse the other realm and the encroachment of the Endlands into it for a while, but she still struggled to get a sense of the timeline that things happened. It was possible that she was seeing ten years into the future or thousand.
“That’s what I saw,” Tracia said. “A tree that disappears and an elaborate Aziza structure built into its canopy, complete with thriving azizas.” She left it at that. The Idols were pleased and they went to tell others about Tracia’s vision for the future of azizas.
“You seem to be disturbed,” Nille said. “Is that what you really saw?”
“I saw a genocide, I think,” Tracia said. “I should probably find this tree.”
“Indeed,” Nille said with concern. “But after a little while here. I can smell the foods they are cooking for us.”
Tracia nodded and tried not to obsess over the vision as she spoke with the azizas who approached her. She produced her Du Smiting Deck to do readings for curious azizas and she answered their questions to help them find purpose in their existence.
Nille stood like a faithful sentry over Tracia and she smiled as azizas patted her legs gently and bowed to her.
Over the hours that Tracia used the Du, the crowd at the center swelled. She knew that they would be held up in the mound for many settings of Agê’s light and it annoyed her. Somewhere in the vast forests and jungles of the Disc, a large tree was appearing and disappearing.
The Encyclopedia of the Known Multiverse Vol. ∞ 