The Word of Zed (Part 6)

The Astronomer
(c) 2008 Melissa Gay

The Word of Zed
​Part 6

The fun hadn't lasted very long and now Aiden wanted to go home. He'd spent all day writing words he didn't understand. He'd learned about dragons with sails on their backs and other strange stuff. He'd expected to open his eyes and find himself in the bookstore, but he'd never woken up.

Above him the telescope retracted. He wearily lifted his head and yawned. The wizard guy knelt next to him. He had kind eyes like Grandpa Mike.
 
“Not much fun, is it?”

Aiden shook his head. “Can I go home now?”

“If the pictures let you.”

“But—”

The wizard guy descended the stairs and headed into a corridor marked by red stars, humming as if pleased by something.

Aiden pushed the scroll aside and yawned again, rubbing his eyes. He heard a noise and found one of the dragonets in front of him.

“Play…now…we?” it chirped.

“You talk silly.”

“Silly… not… we,” the dragonet hissed.

Aiden looked around and sighed.

“Sad…are… you?” the creature asked, tilting its head. Aiden nodded. “Sad… like…Zed,” it replied.

The dragonet winged off in search of more playful company. Soon the pair were flying above him, making a lot of noise. Mrs. Larsen wouldn't like that. After another yawn, Aiden worked his way down the stairs, carrying his book under one arm. Green was his favorite color, so he followed those stars to see where they went. It was late and his mother would be very worried about him. Bobkins wouldn't be able to sleep without him.

The green stars ended and Aiden stared up at the all the scrolls on a big wall.

“Wow,” he said. He tried counting them, but gave up after he reached twelve.

A scroll leapt out of one of the holes and sailed toward him. He jumped in surprise when it landed and unrolled at his feet with a rustling sound. It was the picture of the black knights who lived in the forest and talked to the trees.

“Hey, that's in my book!” he said.

​He looked up at all the scrolls again. Maybe there was a picture of him inside the tent at Uncle Jim's bookstore. If he found it, then he could go home. 

* * * * *

Delayed by a grumpy bridge ogre who had insisted he recite poetry to pay for his crossing, Zed arrived at the Magi's Keep after the gate gnome was in bed. Knowing he had no choice but to stay outside for the night, he'd gone into the forest and found a quiet place to sleep. Tiggy had liked it because of the abundant bugs. Zed hadn't. He missed the scrolls too much.

Now that it was morning, he hurried into the Scrollery, concerned what the replacement scribe had been doing while he was gone. He skidded to a halt at the doorway. It was a disaster. Scrolls were out of their niches, sitting around in piles, unrolled. Others flew around in agitation.

“No, no, no!” Zed shouted. “This is not right! I go away for one day and… and…”

He scrambled around, frantically stuffing parchments into their niches. Some of them were so upset they jumped right back out and flew around him like furious birds. Luckily, the mess only involved the first three tiers.

Zed found the source of the disorder nestled inside one of the niches: It was the little human he'd seen in the observatory. There were dried tears on his face.

“Wake up!” Zed called, furious at the chaos in his Scrollery. “Wake up now!”

The small face peered out at him, bleary-eyed.

Zed tugged on his own ears in anxiety. “What have you done? A Scribe always stores the Scrolls properly!”

The little human extracted himself from the niche and jumped to the floor, his clothes askew. He stood about Zed's height, but seemed younger.

He looked around and then lowered his eyes. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm not a… scerrr… I couldn't find it.”
 
“Find what?” Zed demanded.

The little human wasn't listening. “My mom will be mad at me. I'm not 'posed to stay out after dark.”

Mom? Was that like a mother? Zed had never really thought about that.

Little humans would have to have mothers just like implings. His anger decreased a notch or two.

 “What's your name?” he asked, still glaring. He was aware of a ring of scrolls that had encircled them, watching every move.

“Aiden.”

“I'm Zed.” Without thinking, he wiggled his ears in the traditional imp greeting. The little human tried to do the same, then started giggling.

“I can't do that.” He gingerly touched Zed's arm. “You're green,” he said and grinned.

“You're…not green.”

Aiden's face saddened again. “I wanna go home. I can't stay.”

“It is lonely here.” Zed whispered. He remembered how lonely it had been when he'd first come to work for the Magi. No other imps to talk to, only the dragonets. He pointed at the strange flat object in the little human's hands. “What is that?”

“A book, Silly.”

“What is a… book silly?”

Aiden opened it. Zed leaned closer. It was like a set of scrolls, only bound together. “How odd,” he said. It would be easier to store than the scrolls.

“My mom gave it to me,” Aiden announced. “It's my birthday book. I'm five!”

The scrolls rustled around them, reminding Zed that time was passing.

He sighed. “You can go home now,” he said. “I'll tell the Magi you've gone.”

“The wizard guy?” Zed nodded. Aiden shut his book with a pronounced thump. “I don't know how to go home.”

Of course, that made sense. He'd been the one to bring the little human here. He certainly couldn't stay. He clearly wasn't a Scribe.

Perhaps…

Zed fetched a fresh scroll, quill and an ink pot.

“Draw where you want to go,” he ordered.

“Like when I went to see the red dragon,” Aiden said.

Zed didn't know what he meant.

Aiden screwed up his face in thought and began to put marks on the parchment. 

“Don't squeeze the quill so tight. It doesn't like it,” Zed explained. That was the first lesson a Scribe learned at the academy.

Aiden stuck out his tongue and worked on the picture.

Definitely not a Scribe.

When it was done, or at least Aiden said it was done, Zed pointed at a section of the scroll.

“What did you call that?” he asked. It looked like a set of wavy lines with a tiny little stick inside.

“It's a tent, and I'm in it. That way 'squitos don't bite you.”

“What are… squitos?” Zed asked, bewildered. This little human was so confusing.

“Flying things,” Aiden said, fluttering his hands around and scattering ink in the process. “They bug you.”

As if on cue Mallet zipped in the room, made a series of ear-splitting sounds and then winged out again.

“I think I understand,” Zed said, rubbing one of his ears to lessen the ache. He peered over at the picture again. It was … simple. Very simple.

“Maybe it's good enough,” he said, crossing two fingers behind his back.

Aiden stuck the quill into the ink pot. That made Zed wince. Then he bent over and touched the little stick inside the…tent.

Nothing happened.

He touched it again.

Nothing.

Aiden blinked tears. “I just wanna go home,” he whispered, a sob caught his throat.

A moment later, he was gone.

The scrolls rustled their approval.

​Zed blinked his eyes and then sighed. He tidied up the ink pot and made soothing noises to the annoyed quill. Once he finished tidying the Scrollery, it was time to see the Magi. At least the next Scribe would find everything in order.

* * * * *

“Hey, Kiddo. It's time to go.” ​

Aiden blinked his eyes.

“Aiden?” his mother asked, parting the net curtain at the front of the tent.
 
“Mom?” He launched himself at her, nearly tripping over an untied shoelace. “Mom!”

His arms grabbed for her. He was back.

“That was a big hug,” she said, brushing back a stray jumble of hair from his forehead. “You fell asleep again, didn't you?”

“No! I went there where the wizard guy lives. I got to look through his tell…tell..” He made a twisting gesture with his hands in frustration because he couldn't remember the word. "You know, you see stars through it."

“Telescope?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I drawed pictures for him.”

“Drew pictures for him.” Then what he said caught up with her. “Wizard?”

“Zed helped me come home.”

“Who is Zed?” she asked, more confused than ever.

“An imp. He writes stuff for the wizard guy.”

“That must have been some dream.”

“No! It happened!” Aiden retrieved the book and opened it to the front page. “See!”

Melissa took the book and then frowned. The page didn't pop up. She squinted at the picture in muted light. Aiden was seated on the platform, a quill pen in his small hand. He was bent over a scroll, the pink tip of his tongue peaking out of his lips as he concentrated on a letter.
​
Behind him the Magi peered through his great telescope while overhead two small dragons flittered through the cogwheels. She shook her head. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. Bending closer, she scrutinized the figure. It was Aiden in every detail, even to the sticker on his shirt that proclaimed him a Bright Star.

He pointed “See, that's me! I was there.”

Melissa crinkled her forehead in thought. Maybe her brother was playing a trick on her. Yeah, that had to be it. He'd created another page and stuck it in the book when she wasn't looking. That's why it didn't pop up. It was a joke.

“Yup, that's you. So how'd you get in there?” she said, trying to sound like little boys became part of books everyday.

“I touched the ink.”

Melissa slapped the book shut. “Okay, Kiddo, let's go home. We're both tired.”

“Can't. I've gotta help Zed.”

She rubbed her temples. “We can worry about this tomorrow.”

“But Mom—”

“Tomorrow, Aiden. Now let's go.”

She rose and he followed her, toting the book with a reverence not expected of a five-year-old. Her brother was waiting for them at the door, ready to lock up.

“Night, Aiden,” Jim said. She swore she saw her sibling deliver a conspiratorial wink.

I knew it.

A short time after Aiden had climbed in bed, Melissa settled into her favorite chair with the birthday book on her lap. Bobkins bumped up against her leg in a pre-emptive bid for more food. She absentmindedly gave him a scratch.

“I just don't get it,” she said, flipping page after page.

After another bump, followed by a plaintive meow, she shot a look at the cat's bowl. Full, as usual.

“Nice try, Bobkins.” A moment later, she heard the pad of Aiden's feet down the hallway. He hadn't been to sleep. Moms can always tell.

“What's wrong, kiddo?” she asked.

“Zed.”

“Is he keeping you from going to sleep?” A shake of the head. “Then what's up?”

Aiden crawled into her lap. She arranged the chenille throw over both of them. “He's sad, mom. The dragon said so.”

“Why is he sad?”

“He don't have any friends.”

“Doesn't have… I’m sure he does, Honey.”

Aiden shook his head. She knew that look. It would be easier to move a mountain than change the kid's mind. “So what do you think we should do?”

“Draw him one.”

Anything that moved the kid back to his bed was a plus. “Okay, what would this friend look like?”

“Like Molly, 'Cept she's green.”

“Okay, a green Molly. Go get your crayons and let's see what we can do.”

Aiden wasted no time fetching his crayons and paper. He parked himself on the floor and went to work. As time progressed, there was a lot of head shaking and “no's” coming out of his mouth. Molly's hair wasn't right, her eyes were too small, her legs too short…

“I can't do it!” Aiden wailed, his exhaustion kicking in with a vengeance.
 
“You're too tired. It can wait until morning,” Melissa said in a soothing tone.

A long yawn accompanied by more eye-rubbing. He dropped the crayon into the box and then headed toward the bedroom dragging the chenille throw behind him. Bobkins pounced on the trailing edge, thinking it a game, but Aiden didn't notice.

“That's one tired kid.” Melissa took her son's latest artistic effort, folded the sheet and stuck it in the book. Tomorrow they'd have all morning to work on the perfect Molly.
​

Part Seven

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(c) 2008 Jana Oliver
All Rights Reserved
(and yes, that means you AI)