Word of Zed (Part 5)

​The Astronomer
(c) 2008 Melissa Gay

​The Word of Zed
​Part 5

​The moment he stepped inside the observatory and saw the small figure hunched over a scroll, Zed clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a shout of glee. It had worked! The new Scribe wasn't an imp, more like a little human, but that didn't matter.

​All Zed needed was one day.

He sprinted back to the Scrollery, put on his finest brown vest and scrubbed his face. He had to hurry. It took a long time to get to the city, and he didn't want to be late. Right before he dashed out the door, he remembered the special scroll he'd made in Paris' honor. He tucked it in his vest and ran for the front gate, scurrying by the astonished gnome.

A quick stop to rent a bowtie and he was hurrying along the streets with no time to spare. Every step reminded him he was about to meet the imp of his dreams. And every step reminded him of how unworthy he was to do just that.

Chez Gargoyle was bustling. Zed nervously adjusted his bowtie and straightened his vest. He still couldn't believe he was here. In a few minutes, he'd be able to meet the most beautiful imp in the world and charm her with his poetry, his knowledge, his… Zedness.

That was the problem. Nobody could charm someone if their name was Zed. So he'd chosen the name Alexander when he'd entered the contest. Was that wrong? Probably. No one would have picked a dinner companion named Zed. Especially someone named Paris.

He shuffled a foot nervously.

“Are you Alexander?” a voice asked.

It took him a bit to realize the question was put to him. He turned to find a young imphet nearby, carrying a clipboard. She was about his age with long brown hair and wide eyes. She wore a pretty blue dress. There was a tiny golden star at the point of one of her ears.

“Ah…yes, I'm… Alexander.” For today, at least.

She delivered a nod and noted something on her clipboard. “Miss Impton will be here momentarily. You do know how to behave around such an esteemed person, don't you?”

Grovel?  “Yes, I think so.”

“So what is your real name?” she asked.

His mouth fell open. “How did you know?”

“Alexander? Not likely. You look more like Pogue or a Hoddy.”

“Zed. My name is Zed.”

She blinked then smiled. “That's unusual.”

“I was the last impling born in a very large family.”

“Makes sense. Your entry form says you're a Fifth Level Mischief. Is that a fib as well?”

Zed colored in embarrassment. “I'm a Scribe.”

The imphet looked surprised. “A Scribe? I didn't realize there was another—”

There was a flourish at the door which drew their attention.

“Ah, here she comes. Good luck!” the imphet said and flashed him a wink.

He'd barely noticed it, caught in the maelstrom that was Paris Impton. She was tall and lanky, but had fewer curves than on the postcard. He wondered if some artist had been a bit too free with the paint brush. She paused just inside the door so the trollarazzi could catch up with her. They moved slowly, but once in place only an earthquake could dislodge them.

Most of them had five or six cameras around their necks, plus an instant photo lab attached to their backs. As Zed watched, mouth ajar, Paris made sure to pose and style and pout so the photos would look candid.

“This way, Paris!” one of the trolls called out to her and she turned her wide brown eyes in its direction. Flashes lit the room.

Zed fidgeted, adjusting his bow tie once again. This was all a sham. It'd just been his way with words that had landed him here. He should have stayed at his job. The Magi wasn't a bad master. He just liked to work long hours. What if the replacement wasn't any good? Zed would be blamed if the Magi was displeased. He could lose his job.

In his anxiety, he'd failed to note that Paris had passed him and was now at a table near the center of the dining room. A spotlight clicked on, bathing her in glowing beams. He was going to have to sit there with her, in that spotlight, for all the world to see.

He gulped. This wasn't a good idea.

“Zed?” It was the pretty imphet. She took his arm and escorted him to the table. “You'll be fine,” she whispered near his ear.

“No I won't.”

“Just let her talk. It works best that way.”

He slid into the chair next to the center of his universe. There was some sort of food on the plate in front of him. It was all green and looked like grass with a few mushrooms for color. To cover his nervousness, he dropped a napkin into his lap and then looked over at Miss Impton. She wasn't looking at him. She waved at someone in the distance and blew them a kiss.

“Love ya!” she called.

Up close, he could see some of the flaws. Zed shook that thought off; she was perfect. She had to be. He'd risked his job for this moment.

In time her eyes came to rest on him. “Who are you?”

“This is the winner of the poetry contest, Miss Impton,” the imphet announced. 

“Oh...”
 
Paris' voice wasn't as smooth as he'd expected. “Did…did you like the poem?” he stammered.

She shrugged. “I didn't read it. I have imps who do that for me.”

His heart sank. He was sure she'd been reading it over and over, captivated by his prowess with words. He plucked up a bit of courage. “I could quote it for you if you wish.”

She shrugged. “What do you do?”

“I'm…” He wouldn't lie about this, not now. “I'm a Scribe. I work for a great Magi, and I write down his words.”

“Sounds dull.”

She dug in her butterfly-shaped purse for a neon pink imp-phone shaped like a pair of lips and punched in a number. Cocking her head while running a hand through her hair, she said, “Oh, hi, yeah it's me. No, not doing anything important.”

Zed's heart collided with his toes. He took a deep breath and then let it out again. To his surprise, the teacup in front of him sprouted a nose. The nose was followed by a pair of eyes that peered over the rim at him. The nose wiggled a couple of times. Then a pair of downy ears appeared. It was her hedgehog. He smiled at it.

“Tiggy,” he said. Everybody knew the creature's name.

Not knowing what else to do, he offered it a piece of a mushroom from his plate. It ate it appreciatively. All the while, Paris continued her conversation. Once the mushroom was gone, there was a rocking motion as the hedgehog sought to free itself from its china prison. The teacup plopped over and the hedgehog rolled out. It uncurled itself, ruffled its spines and then waddled in his direction.

One of the trollarazzi lumbered forward and a strobe flashed in Zed's face, temporarily blinding him. When he could see again, the hedgehog had collapsed into a protective ball, spines outward. He gingerly scooped it up.

“That's okay. It can't hurt you.”

He petted it and made soothing noises. Eventually the nose, ears and eyes reappeared. The creature settled in his hands and observed him with a hedgehog's unfailing gaze. Then it nudged his hand with its nose. He offered a bit more mushroom from his plate. It ate it with relish.

Entranced by Tiggy, he hadn't noticed that the hubbub had diminished. A glance to his right revealed that Paris Impton was gone.

“But… but…” Tiggy nudged his hand for more food. “Your hedgehog,” he called but Paris was already out the door.

“Don't worry,” the young imphet said as she settled into the chair next to him. “She loses them all the time. She just gets a new one. I think this is the Tiggy #4 or 5 now.”

“But he's so cute. How can she leave him behind?” Zed asked, appalled.

“She says they're too spiny. That's why she keeps them in a teacup.”

“He's not spiny. He's very soft.” There was another prod from the creature so Zed pushed a mushroom his way.

The imphet gave him an odd look. “You're really a Scribe?” He nodded. She leaned over as if confiding a secret. “I like to read and write. I don't get much chance with Miss Impton's schedule.”

Another imp who knew how to write? On impulse, he set the hedgehog in the middle of the plate and pulled out the small scroll he'd created for his idol.

“Here, you might as well have this,” he said. “It's a poem I wrote about beauty.” A glance toward the door. “I was going to give it to her, but I don't think she deserves it.”

The imphet accepted the scroll with a slight blush.

He gave the hedgehog another scratch. “I should be going.”

“Take Tiggy with you.”

Zed's eyes snapped up. “What? I can't do that. It's hers.”

“No, he's yours. He likes you,” she said and then looked down at the scroll. “Thank you, Zed. I really appreciate this.”

He scooped up the hedgie and put him in his pocket, leaving the teacup behind. What was supposed to be two hours of lunch and conversation had lasted five minutes. Outside, he saw Miss Impton lolling against a limo surrounded by the trollarazzi. She didn't even notice him.

Perhaps that was for the best.

​Part Six

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