Puppet of the Sirentree

Eventually he heard Bill’s voice.

“On your feet, Elias,” he urged. “Unless you want the tide to drag you back in.”

Cool coconut milk trickled down his throat, and Elias gulped down mouthful after mouthful. The world came back into focus, and he saw the man leaning over him. The sun and the wide brim of his hat cast his blue eyes in shadow, but his grip on Elias’ shoulder squeezed tight. Reassuring. “You okay?”

“I’m…” He saw that ocean of ink in his periphery. An alien thing that stretched into the horizon. His eyes squeezed shut, as if that would make everything normal again. But he opened them again, and the world did not return to normal. “I’m fine.” His words emerged as a plea, as if begging Bill not to bring it up. “I’m fine.”

Bill did not press him, and instead helped Elias to his feet. He looked Elias up and down, and led him back to the wooden shack.

“I know a man named Merloine,” he said, and there was a momentary pause, as if Bill deliberated over something. “He’ll be able to help you, I think.” Without Elias responding, he continued, as though talking to himself. “Yeah. I think this is what will be best for everyone.”

“Can this Merloine help?” murmured Elias. Even as they approached the shack, the crash of ink against the shore threatened to smother his words. His feline tail drooped, as though all life had been sapped from it. After all, there was nowhere in the world that had waves of ink.

Bill did not reply and instead pushed Elias back inside. He closed the door behind him, and steered Elias back to the sitting room. He sat down. The walls of the room had once been cramped, but now they felt oppressive. Elias embraced himself. If only Tibby or his mother was here right now. What he wouldn’t give to feel their arms around him, and their reassurances that everything would be okay. Or even just Leo snuggling into his lap.

“Where is my cat?” he pressed. “Tell me where Leo is.”

Bill cast furtive glances from side to side.

“You oughta wait till you can talk with Merlione–”

“No,” Elias said. “You know something. Tell me.”

Bill’s weight shifted from foot to foot. He tipped his hat down such that Elias could not see his eyes, and then called toward the kitchen. “Dear, can you put some tea on? Gonna need a few cups’ worth.” A long warbling groan came from the kitchen in response. “Thank you.”

“Whatever it is, I can handle it,” said Elias. “I don’t need any tea.”

“You will,” assured Bill. “Now just wait a couple minutes.”

These minutes stretched as a weight pressed down upon Elias. A truth he hadn’t wanted to admit floated to the surface, and took shape as words that filled the silence between them.

“This isn’t a dream, is it?” he murmured.

Bill chuckled, but the sound was heavy and mirthless.

“Had the same thought too when I first came to the Inkyard,” he said. “But no. It’s not.”

Elias’ hands pressed together.

A faint whistle of a kettle emanated from the kitchen and roused him from his reverie. Kuchisake approached him bearing a tray with cups and a kettle of tea. She filled up a cup of steaming liquid before pushing it toward him. The top of the liquid bore an entrancing swirl of light green and black. Black as dark as ink.

“What sort of plant is this tea made from?” wondered Elias.

“Driiiink,” said Kuchisake.

Elias found the strength to look at her disfigured face. It’d been horrifying before, but now that something more existential pressed down upon him, that horror had dwindled to a discomfort. And the offer of tea helped.

“Thank you.” He sipped the hot liquid. As it spilled down his throat, his anxiety surrounding his home and family receded to the back of his mind. The tea tasted as strange as it had looked, like a mix between wildberries, lime, and something sickly sweet he couldn’t quite put a name to. A few more mouthfuls and deep breaths helped him relax into the chair.

“So what happened to…” It took Elias a moment to remember the name of his cat, perhaps from the shock of learning that this place was not a dream. “Leo.”

“You nearly dissolved in the ink, but your cat saved you.” Bill’s gaze drifted to the feline ears stemming from Elias’ head, and then to the tail.

“Huh?” Elias stared at him. Even as he continued staring, he ran a hand along his ears. “What do you mean?”

“The ink makes our bodies and minds, everything about us…come apart. And those bits of us can mix with other bits of other things, or people. Two things coming together like that helps keep things…stable, I guess. You’re lucky your cat was with you when you came here, or you’d be…well, that’s an existence I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.” He sucked in a breath as he spoke the final word, as though there was a weight Elias couldn’t hope to grasp within it.

“No. You’re lying. Ink doesn’t do that.” His voice rose as he struggled to comprehend that. He remembered the way Leo relaxed in his arms. Had his cat given up on living then, and offered up his life for Elias? His eyes welled up with tears. “You’re lying. You have to be lying!” His precious kitty cat that had never done anything wrong, had offered up its life so that Elias could live? That was preposterous.

Elias wasn’t sure when he’d risen from the chair, but he stood over Bill, glaring down at the cowboy. His hands gripped the edges of the table, knuckles white. In the corner of his eye, he saw that Kuchisake had entered the room. She carried a knife at her side.

Bill stared up at him for a long time. Even though Elias’ voice had risen to a yell that filled the living room, the man remained quiet and composed. His eyes were soft. His lips were pressed together, as though Elias’ indignation was something pitiful.

“You’re right, I am lying,” he said. “I’m sure that your cat will show up on the shore at some point. You just have to be patient, Elias. Can you do that for me?” The man slowly rose from his seat, reached across the table, and squeezed Elias’ shoulder. “Will let you know if I find your cat.”

The man’s smile told a lie, but Elias couldn’t stomach the alternative. Even if the notion of waiting was a lie, it brought a measure of hope to the situation. He just had to wait here. And maybe Leo wouldn’t be alone. Elias had shown up here, after all. Maybe other people had made it, like Tibby or his mother.

A measure of life returned to his tail, and it twitched. His ears flattened against his hair, and he became aware of the ceramic surface of the teacup warming his hand. A deep breath pushed away that anger, and he sat back down. “Was it the same for you, Bill? When you saw that…ocean?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Fortunately I showed up on land and not inside the ink, but yeah.”

Elias turned to Kuchisake. He tried not to look at the knife in her hand. “And you, Kuchisake?”

There was a moment of hesitation. Kuchisake leaned in, as if drinking every detail of Elias’ face. Eventually she nodded.

Elias squinted at her.

“Is that the truth?”

Kuchisake twitched. After a longer silence, she eventually shook her head.

“Haaappy,” she warbled. “Freeeee.”

“Free,” echoed Elias. He gazed into the bottom of the cup. Even if his mother had occasionally said hurtful things or compared Tibby to him, he’d never wanted to end up here. Tibby got the chance to go to the capital, so maybe whatever gods that presided over everything wanted to even things out. Elias chuckled before shaking his head at the thought.

“Moooore?” said Kuchisake. She tapped the cup.

“I don’t want any more tea, but thank you,” Elias said. “I’m sorry for, err, throwing that blanket on you.” Kuchisake shrugged in response. The readiness with which she shrugged, as though she was accustomed to that treatment, made Elias wince. “Have you been here a while then? On this island?”

Kuchisake raised her hands. Her left hand held up three fingers, and her right thumb and fingers made a ring shape.

“Thirty?” said Elias, and Kuchisake nodded. “Days?” His guess received a headshake. “Weeks? Months? Years?” Only the last of these received a nod. Elias stared at her. She should’ve been around his mother’s age if that was true, but there were no wrinkles around her eyes and mouth like what his mother had. Going by looks alone, Kuchisake could’ve claimed that she was ten years older than himself, and Elias would’ve believed her.

“Try not to shock him too badly, dear,” said Bill.

His gaze drifted to the cowboy, as well. “Can you please tell me where I am?” Elias’ voice threatened to break.

Kuchisake hesitated again, and this time did not answer.

Elias fumed in his seat, wondering why she could not give him a simple response, but cooled his irritation with a deep breath.

“How long have you known Bill?” he said, hoping to change the subject to something she’d be more keen to talk about.

“Loooong,” she said. “Journeeeyed tooogether.”

“You went on a journey? Where to?”

Kuchisake twitched. Her hand briefly jumped toward her lips, as though to stifle the words that had already been spoken. It was a futile effort, and only made Elias lean toward her with furrowed eyebrows.

“It’s ancient history,” Bill chimed in. “Merloine gave us this place to stay after.”

Elias sat back into his seat. “Do you have a map of this area?”

Bill and Kuchisake exchanged a glance.

“I’ll fetch it.” And Bill left to do so. He returned sooner than Elias expected with a roll of parchment. He unrolled it, and revealed a chain of five islands that formed a rough crescent shape.

“We’re here.” Bill pointed toward the bottommost island, and then slid his finger to the largest island in the center. “And this is where the man I told you about is. The one that may be able to help you out.”

“Do you have a boat?” said Elias, looking at the water between. Then his eyes rose to Bill’s arms. He didn’t look like a rower, and Elias wasn’t too experienced with boats.

“We got one,” Bill said. He turned toward Kuchisake. “I’ll take him there tomorrow morning. Dear, would you make sure he has plenty to drink before we set out?” The two shared a brief look, and Kuchisake nodded.

“So what is Merloine like?” said Elias.

“Very knowledgeable. He can do plenty of interesting things. Carries a big staff. Ends in a hook with a big blue sapphire in the center,” said Bill. “First time we met, he stopped my bullets in midair.”

“You tried to shoot him?” Elias blinked a few times.

“After everything we’d gone through up till then, we might’ve been a bit on edge,” said Bill. “But he’s the one that gave us a safe haven here.” He smiled at Kuchisake. “Sure, we have to get our hands dirty with work every now and then, but it’ll all be worth it in the end.”

The desperation in Bill’s voice, as though he reassured himself more than Elias, made Elias shiver. But the man spoke no further, and simply motioned Elias outside.

“I figure a breath of fresh air would do you some good,” suggested Bill. “You ought to get used to this place, I reckon. I can come with you, in case you pass out again?” A concerned warmth filled Bill’s voice, like how Elias would’ve liked his father to speak with him and Tibby. He offered a smile.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you.” He stepped outside and walked along the shore. A part of him knew he wouldn’t find Leo coughing and spluttering on the sand, but he couldn’t help but hope.

The waves of ink crashed against the white sand shoreline. He closed his eyes, drinking in the sound. But even that sounded different. Stickier. Elias gazed up at the sky, having been too distracted to look up the first time he’d gone outside. The sun was different from back home. Black sunspots shone on the surface, the spots making a face in the sun that leered down at Elias.

He shuddered and rubbed at his eyes. They were just sun spots. Just sunspots. A shake of his head banished the ludicrous thought from his head.

He spotted shells on the sand. The red, blue, and green colors were unlike anything he’d seen. He plucked a large green conch shell off the ground and smiled. Then he saw the creature that had nestled inside it, and Elias dropped it with a yelp. A strange mix of shrimp and crab partially emerged from the shell, as though the creatures had melded together. This strange creature moved along. Elias shivered.

“This is a dream,” he murmured. “This has to be a dream.” He wondered what Tibby would do if she was here instead of him. Surely better than how Elias was doing. She was the younger twin, but she always seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. He could practically imagine what she’d say to him right now, if she stood here next to him.

“Elias.” It was Tibby’s voice.

He straightened up.

The voice came from further inland to his right. His feline ears flicked up, and his tail swished behind him. “Elias, are you around?” the voice continued. “I ended up here and I don’t know where I am.” Without delay, he ran toward the sound. His feet kicked up sand and kicked away shells. A mix of hope and apprehension fueled his breathing, and pushed energy into his hurrying steps. He wasn’t alone. In this place where the ocean had been replaced with ink, the sun had a face, and the crabs were all wrong, he wasn’t alone.

“I’m on my way Tibby!” he called out. “Just hold on!”

His chest heaved and his legs ached when he came to a stop before a path leading deeper into the island. Sweat plastered his shirt to his chest.

Up ahead, trees and a thicket framed the path. Brambles and vines covered it.

“Elias, are you there?” Tibby’s voice called from deeper along that path, past the trees. “I think I’m trapped in something. It’s all sticky.” Now that he’d gotten to this point, Elias realized that there was no echo to Tibby’s voice. There hadn’t been an echo when he’d first heard it either. His ears flattened against his head. His chest tightened.

“I’ll get help,” he said. “Bill and Kuchisake. They live…”

“What’s that plant doing?” Tibby screamed.

Elias ran down the path. Shade from the trees offered respite from the sun. Strange purple shapes hung from the branches, but he paid them no mind for the moment. Eventually Elias followed Tibby’s pleas for help until he’d arrived at a clearing.

His sister’s body lay half wedged inside a tree. She was naked, the upper half slumped over and dangling out of a cavity in the tree trunk. Her body was drenched in a sweet smelling light green slime that glistened in the faint light shining through the trees. Her hair shone the same platinum blonde that he remembered.

“Tibby!” Elias took a few steps closer, but then he stopped. The face wasn’t right. The nose was too small, the lips a little big. Tibby’s body was more muscular than the one halfway emerged from the tree. Elias saw the cavity contract and expand around Tibby’s torso like a toothless, breathing mouth. The hole from which the fake Tibby’s body emerged produced more slime that dribbled down to the base of the tree.

His tail frizzed up behind him.

“You’re not Tibby,” he cried. “Where is she? If you hurt her, I swear to the gods that I’ll…”

The half-emerged facsimile of his sister opened its eyes. They were blue like Tibby’s, but empty. The creature smiled his sister’s smile, but the change to its face was like that of an automaton that followed mechanics without heart. It reached out for Elias with twitching fingers.

“If I’m no different from her,” the facsimile of Tibby said. “If I’m her in every way that matters, then does that even matter? I’m right here.” 

“Stop talking nonsense!” screamed Elias. He stepped back and finally beheld the tree from which the creature had begun emerging. What had appeared to be branches were tentacles. The tentacles ended in long needle-like shapes. Elias saw a squirrel amongst the branches. A normal animal for once, except that its eyes were glassy and its body shriveled, as though sucked dry of life. 

“You aren’t going to help me out of here, Elias?” The creature’s hands stopped reaching out toward him. Its mouth contorted into a snarl. “You know how anxious mum and I were? Everyone in town? You up and vanished, and I left to find you. And now I find you here, and you won’t help your beloved sister escape?” A venom that Elias had never heard from Tibby permeated the creature’s voice, and its voice rose to a screeching pitch. Even as the facsimile screamed at him, its eyes remained lifeless in a way that he couldn’t put to words. “Or maybe you were waiting for this chance. For me to be stuck here, so you can take my job in the capital and make mother proud of you for once.” The hands settled on the tree trunk, and the creature began to push and shove its way out of the undulating cavity. It emerged, inch by inch. Wet sticky sounds emerged from within the tree with every forceful shift. More of that sickly sweet stench assaulted Elias’ nose, and he continued to back away.

“You’re not her,” he said. “You’re not her.” Elias’ heart thundered in his chest. He plucked a sturdy-looking branch from the clearing floor and brandished it in front of him. “Stay back, or I’ll jab you in the eyes!”

“Elias, get down and cover your ears!” called out a familiar voice from behind him. Bill’s voice.

Elias crouched down without hesitation. His ears flattened against his hair and he clamped his hands over them for good measure. Even with all that, a deafening bang echoed from behind him, and rattled his teeth. He couldn’t quite see what happened next, but a bullet had pierced through the Tibby facsimile’s forehead and left a hole deep in the tree trunk behind her. A faint smell of gunpowder eclipsed the sickly sweetness, and Bill put away his gun.

“Good think I caught you when I did,” said Bill. He knelt down and rested a hand on Elias’ shoulder. “You all right?”

“I’m fine,” Elias said, still crouched. A tremble lingered in his voice. “What is that?” He couldn’t look away from the motionless facsimile. Then he gasped as its body dissolved from the bottom up into a lime green sludge with some round red seeds mixed in. It stared at Elias, but did not twitch or make a sound all the while. The sludge ended up splattering on the forest floor.

“Merloine calls them sirentrees,” said Bill. He gave Elias’ shoulder one more jostle before striding past him and around the lime green sludge. Elias saw a jar at Bill’s hip, but before he could ask about it, the man collected that sickly sweet smelling slime from the hole that the fake Tibby had tried emerging from.

“What’re you doing?” Elias said. Disgust spilled into his voice in spite of his best efforts.

“Sirentree sap dulls the mind,” said Bill. “Tucks away the thoughts that bother you. Relaxing. You can ask Merloine more about it if you want, once you’ve met him. But it’s not bad.” Once he’d filled the jar and capped it, he walked over to Elias and offered the man a hand. Elias took the hand and Bill helped him up. “For now, we’d best get going before any more sirentrees peek at our thoughts and sculpt their puppets.” He led Elias once again back to the shack, and Elias couldn’t get the memory of that fake Tibby out of his mind. He froze as Bill pressed a hand to his shoulder. Then he relaxed, feeling the reassurance within Bill’s warm, firm touch. “I wouldn’t feel ashamed. One of those sirentrees nearly got me wrapped around its finger…err, branches…sorry, tentacles,” said Bill. “Kuchisake saved my hide though. Like how I saved you.”

”Right,” Elias murmured. He only half paid attention. The rest of his mind lingered on the memory of his sister emerging from the bowl of the tree trunk. “That wasn’t Tibby,” said Elias. His jaw clenched as he remembered the words the facsimile spouted at him. “My sister would never say things like that.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Bill said. “Don’t let it get into your head. Try not to think about it anymore if you can. But I know that’s hard.”

Elias fished for something, anything, else to talk about. His ears perked up as he remembered something Kuchisake had told him.

“You went on an adventure before coming here, right?” he said. “What was that like?”

“We didn’t do much. Made a few friends here and there, a few enemies too.”

The lack of specifics made Elias frown. It might’ve been worth putting to paper, just like how he would put Tibby’s adventures to paper when he got the chance.

“Was it just you and Kuchisake then?”

“I think there were seven of us in those days,” Bill said.

And now Bill and Kuchisake lived alone in a little shack on an island in the middle of an ink ocean.

“Yeah, I’m sure not much happened,” Elias said. Sarcasm dripped from his voice. His expression remained flat. “Definitely not worth writing down in case other people enjoy it.” The attempt to change topics didn’t quite push the image of the fake Tibby from his mind. His jaw clenched.

Bill snorted.

“Nobody would care about my adventures.”

“You won’t know that unless you give me something to work with,” protested Elias.

Bill rolled his eyes, but didn’t elaborate on whatever adventure he’d gone on before.

“Surprised your sister didn’t have yellow hair like yours,” Bill remarked. “Is white hair for someone so young common where you’re from?”

Elias shook his head.

“My father had the same white hair, or that’s what mum said,” he said.

Bill pulled down his hat such that the brim concealed the top half of his face. He hummed in thought.

“White hair, nice body,” he mused. “Very striking.” His voice was soft, more so to himself than Elias. Elias was no stranger to men remarking on Tibby’s beauty, but the detached distance in Bill’s tone made Elias shiver. “Maybe she would’ve been more of a Rounder, but I shouldn’t assume.”

“What’s a ‘Rounder’?” wondered Elias.

“It’s a compliment.” Bill waved Elias’ question aside.