I sat back, my frown deepening. I was so ignorant of my birthplace, my own family history. I looked over at John. He had pulled a dozen books off the shelf and looked to be trying to read them all at once.
“I was never told that much about Wormwood,” I said defensively. “But I am curious about it. Very curious,” I added for emphasis.
“Learning is not what it once was,” she replied in a resigned tone. “Things that were taught when I was John’s age are no longer taught. That is sad to me.”
“It’s sad to me too,” I said. “Perhaps you can tell me a few things?”
“Alvis Alcumus founded Wormwood long ago, perhaps five hundred sessions or more in the past; no one knows the exact date.”
“I knew that. But where did he come from? Because if he founded Wormwood, that means it didn’t exist before him. And that also means he had to come from somewhere else.” I had asked questions such as this many times at Learning and had never received an answer. I’m sure they were glad to see the back of me when I turned twelve sessions and my Learning experience was officially over.
Morrigone gave me an uncertain look. “It’s not all that clear. Some say he appeared one light out of nothing.”
“You mean like a reverse Event?” said John.
We both shot him glances. He was on the floor holding a book whose title was Jabbits and the Jugular. After nearly feeling their bite, I felt sick reading those words.
Morrigone rose and went to the fire and held out her long, thin hands to the flames, while John turned his attention to another book, entitled Nefarious Wugs of Wormwood: A Compendium.
I turned to Morrigone, hoping she would continue the discussion.
“My father suffered an Event when I was only six sessions old,” she said.
“Where?” I blurted out before I could catch myself.
She didn’t seem to take offense. “He was last seen down by the Quag. He went there to collect a particular mushroom, the Amanita fulva, which grows only along the edge there. We never knew if that was where the Event occurred. There is nothing left to tell you the exact location of course. There never is.”
I went to stand next to her, gearing up my courage to ask my next question.
“Morrigone,” I began, and my tongue seemed thrilled to say her name, as though we were longtime friends. “If there is nothing left, how do Wugs know it was an Event? If your father was down by the Quag, couldn’t a beast have attacked him and pulled him into the Quag? If so, no Wug would go in to find him.”
I stopped because I suddenly couldn’t believe what I was actually saying. I had just spoken about Morrigone’s father in a way that could be deemed disrespectful.
“Your question is a perfectly natural one, Vega. I had it myself when I was a young.”
“And did you find a satisfactory answer?” John asked.
She turned from the fire and gazed at him. “Sometimes I think that yes, I have. Other times, well, it’s not an easy answer to arrive at, is it? Why some Wugs leave us,” she added wistfully.
“I guess not,” I said doubtfully.
“Now I would like to discuss some matters with you,” she said.
My heart started beating faster because I was afraid what she wanted to discuss was Quentin Herms. But once more, Morrigone surprised me.
“What do you think of the Wall?” She stared at each of us. John put a book down and glanced at me.
“Do you believe it a worthy idea?” she said.
“It is if it keeps the Outliers from eating us,” voiced John.
“You said your vision had seen the attack on Herms,” I said. “And that you could also see the Outliers want to take Wormwood from us.”
“That is true.”
“So what became of Herms? You said your vision stopped. But you assumed that he was dead because of what was found left of him?”
“My vision did not stop. What I said was a bit of an untruth to spare Wugs the horror.” She glanced over at an openmouthed John. “I have no desire to comment further on his fate. But Herms is no more.”
I looked back from John to find Morrigone’s gaze full upon me.
“You were there that light, Vega,” she observed. “And while I know you told Krone you saw nothing, are you absolutely sure you didn’t? Perhaps a glimpse?”
With a start I realized that with her gift of special sight, Morrigone might have seen what I had seen at the edge of the Quag. She might know I had lied to Krone. I thought for a sliver. When I spoke, I did so with great care.
“Everything happened so fast,” I began. “The attack canines were making a lot of noise and there were Council members rushing around. Some of them were very near the Quag. Whether they actually entered it or not, I couldn’t be sure. Perhaps I glimpsed one of them darting into the place. But surely a Wug would not stay there long, right?”
She nodded. “No, no Wug in his right mind would stay in the Quag.” She looked directly at me. “It means death, be very certain of that.” She glanced at John. “Both of you.”
I looked at John, who I knew needed no such admonishment. He looked ready to fall headfirst into the fire, so shaky was he.
But something had occurred to me. “Thansius said that the Outliers can control the minds of Wugs. How?”
“It is not clear. They are foul creatures to be sure, but their minds are advanced. Perhaps more advanced and cunning than our own.”
“So they can make Wugs do their bidding?” I asked.
She looked troubled by this question. “Let us hope you never have occassion to find out the answer to that, Vega,” she said ominously.
I felt my face grow warm at her response and I looked away.
She said, “I trust you both will give all your effort to help with the Wall.”
John nodded vigorously and I did as well, though not quite so energetically. He said, “What will the Wall look like?”
“It will be high, made of wood with guard towers at specified intervals.”
“That’s all?” said John, looking disappointed.
She focused more fully on him. “Why? What would you suggest?”
He said with great conviction, “A two-layered defense. Height can be defeated in various ways. What would be much harder to overcome is if we combined the Wall with another obstacle that would reduce the effectiveness of any attack against us.”
I was impressed and I could tell by her look that Morrigone was too.
She asked, “What would this other obstacle be?”
“Water,” he promptly answered. “Deep enough water to slow the Outliers down. If they are descended from beasts, I would imagine they are large and heavy, even if they do walk on two legs. Thus, I would dig moats on either side of the Wall. It would provide us great tactical advantage because it would allow us to control the situation and divide and conquer our opponent.”
“That’s brilliant, John,” I said, marveling at how he had concocted this seemingly out of nothing. We had only just learned this light of the threat of the Outliers and of the Wall solution, and already he had improved upon our defensive plan.
Morrigone nodded and added with a smile, “Brilliant indeed. When did you think of all this?”
“When I was using the pipes in your room to wash my face. I saw how the water collected in the little basin. It gave me the idea for the moats.”
My respect for John’s intellect, already high, increased a hundredfold. I could only stare at him in awe.
Morrigone rose and fetched a book off the shelf and handed it to John. “This work is on numbers,” she said. “I understand from the Preceptor at Learning that you like to work with numbers.”
John opened the book and instantly focused on what was there.
However, I was wondering why Morrigone had queried the Preceptor about John.