Quibble, 50. Boy

Nish follows Quibble’s trail to a life-altering discovery.

May 01, 2025

50. Boy @Definition

Popping in, my eyes fell on the lit control and I tumbled into an intense crimson dream. I still saw and felt everything. Alnasl released my hand, threw his arms around Quibble, and hauled her to him. In the bare second before they popped out, I saw who held Quibble’s hand. Then all three of them were gone, leaving a metallic thunderclap in their wake.

I stood rooted as the controlling dream ebbed. Finally, I doubled over with pains shooting in my eyes and fell to my hands and knees on wet leaves. I vomited. I tried to get up, but another bout of nausea hit and I heaved up the last of my breakfast. Then I spat, collapsed on my side, and at last, totally free of the dream, had a thought.

Quote! It was Quote!

I couldn’t bear to think of it, yet I could think of nothing else. Quibble’s friend, the first person besides Cate and myself she met at the Dazed monastery. In memory, I saw Quotation in her cell, his forearm bared, showing her the scars his gyrfalcon gave him. Then other memories crowded that out.

Quote wrapped in a bearskin before the hall’s blazing hearth. His offer to accompany me and Quibble to the Adroit consensus. After our lunch with Imay on our second day there – the third speech in the heat – strolling with Quibble, seeing Chapter aloft over the northeast hill, guessing Quote was spying on us. But worst of all was realizing that only five nights ago I had stood naked in Quote’s cell and let him put his hands on me, touch me in adroitness – not only that, but I had nearly caved and let him have what he really wanted from me.

That was too much. Regret swept over me like a salty wave. Rolling on my back and crushing my pack beneath me, I cried and cried in misery. Where, Numberless, did I find all the tears? Where have I ever found so many?

Not “Quote,” I told myself as I cried. He doesn’t deserve One’s name or abbreviation.

I gave out at last and made myself sit up. Where had they popped? There was no telling. At first, I didn’t even know which of them initiated the pop. Alnasl’s amber was in his hand. That was how we arrived: an unbidden pop. He’d expected it – his amber could take him to Quibble when she was in trouble – and that was why he grabbed her. He didn’t light a kindness, as he’d planned, but he had the wherewithal to hug Quibble close, so she could go nowhere without him.

It didn’t make sense that Quibble popped out. She wasn’t practiced at popping with a passenger; most likely, she would have sundered both Alnasl and Asuja. But if Alnasl popped, I reasoned, I would be standing here with an armless Asuja or even half of his corpse for company, wouldn’t I? And of course Alnasl would pop back to me. So Asuja had popped. Presumably, then, he’d been in control. He’d won.

I could do nothing about that, and as I stood up, I wondered why in kindness I’d come here. For that matter, where was here? The Vale of Teeth, the hunting ground of wolves? Digging in my jacket’s pockets, I took out both my glasses – in the left a sky-blue kindness as large as my fist, in the right an amber large enough to fill my cupped palm. I gripped them tightly and tried to remember everything Alnasl told me.

His lesson had been brief, given not in the expectation that I fight Asuja but only so I would have at least the slightest chance in the utmost extremity of need, if Alnasl lost their fight. I knew how to light the kindness and impart a dream but nothing else. I could do nothing useful with the amber but light the other glass. None of the amber’s powers in the hands of a Zero – popping, intoning, espying, visioning – could save me.

“Definition, it’s not your amber,” Alnasl told me when he gave it to me. “I can’t make it yours without zeroing you. You know I can’t do that.”

But also, as he calculated pops in a rush to the High Meadow and over the mountain’s southern face as a storm dumped rain on us, he told me of an arcane power of Zeros’ glasses. They could trance cougars, bears, and wolves.

Clasping the glasses, I closed my eyes, pushed away my terror, and called to mind a memory: Quibble touching me, playing spider with her fingers down my thigh, pressing her hand flat and stroking upwards again, the first breathless moment I felt her fingertip flick through the lips of my sex. I clung to the memory. When I opened my eyes, the kindness was lit.

End! I told the glass, and it darkened. All right, I can do that. Look out, wolves!

I wish you’d choose another memory, said a man’s voice.

Thinking a Zero had popped in behind me, I spun. No one was there. I looked about, every which way, and still saw no one in the glade. The voice had been right beside me, though, practically in my head.

Not practically! it growled. Fool, I am in your head!

What other explanation was there? The madwoman had truly gone mad; at long last, it had happened. Alone and afraid in the Vale of Teeth, I was hearing voices now.

Kindness! The voice sounded impatient. In staccato, stopping after each word, it yelled: I’m in your hand! I’m a relic!

I opened my hand and stared at the amber. You are? I thought.

Of course I am! You’re the densest One I ever met, Definition.

Who are you? I asked, feeling every bit insane and a real fool to boot to be talking telepathically with a rock. Why can’t I see you?

An amber glass isn’t a rock, the voice informed me. Let’s be clear on that from the get-go. It’s a being in its own right. And more importantly, it’s a repository of relics – so don’t you dare lose it! You can’t see me because you have no power to envision me. It’s not your amber. As for who I am – or rather who I was – my name is Iklil.

Meissa’s hive lord?

Oh! You know something about me, eh?

I know Meissa’s story. You saved her from Yed.

Iklil chuckled. Best thing I ever did! Got kindness started. Giving her Ankaa as protégé, though – that wasn’t such a good idea.

Why not?

I’ll tell you later. For now, let’s just consider the problems at hand, shall we? By the way, I’ve gathered you’re an Adroit. What’s your abbreviation?

Nish. Call me Nish. Now I chuckled. Or Nishmael.

All right, Nish. Problem one: I can tell you for a fact we’re in the Vale of Teeth. I’ve been through the vale before. And we’re lost, aren’t we? You have absolutely no idea how to get out of here, and neither do I. Anyway, you can’t pop out. We’ll circle back to that. Problem two: wolves live here. You can light the kindness. Please find a less graphic way to do it! So let’s say problem two is half-solved. If you meet wolves and light the glass, they won’t attack you. Getting away is another matter. Once you trance them, they’ll follow you. We’ll take that night-door when we reach it. Problem three: water, food, fire, shelter. You had a flask, didn’t you? Do you have food?

Alnasl had all our food. I reached into my pack for the glass flask, held it up, tipped it on its side. The water was in line with the cork. Water, yes. Half full.

Half empty. Fortunately, it’s just rained. Drinking the water you find is, again, another matter. It’s not well water. It’s teeming with bacteria, and you’re better off not drinking it until you can boil it somehow. That brings us to fire.

Oh! I filched in the pack. Tinderbox!

Smart woman! Iklil’s mood was now almost sunny. Getting a fire going in the damp won’t be easy, but it’s doable – if we find a dry place, shelter, quite doable. Now, do you have any thoughts on where to find shelter?

Quibble was out here. She must have had shelter. I turned in a circle to gaze about. A pile of cut green saplings lay at the foot of a tree. Look! She was building a shelter. Walking to the tree, I bent and examined the saplings. Not much here to work with. Do you think she was going to build it here? With just this?

Stand up again, Iklil ordered. I obeyed. Look at the tree.

In the tree’s bark at about chest-height was an angular gash, cut to the wood and running with sap. What was that for? Building the shelter against the tree? Lying on the ground nearby were two lengths of well-made cord. Building materials?

How long was Quibble out here? Iklil asked.

She rode over the mountain on the first song, three days ago.

Did she bring cord with her?

We don’t have it! We trade with Glossary for thick rope a lot like this, but not cord.

Then where did Quibble get it?

I don’t think she knows how to make it.

And all the saplings, Iklil said. Did she have a knife with her? An ax?

A pocketknife, but I can’t imagine she cut all these trees with that! An ax, maybe. But she left the monastery in a hurry. I doubt she took time to gather tools. She was bound for Glossary’s cabin. She wouldn’t have thought she’d need them.

Look at the cut in the tree again. When I did, Iklil exclaimed – Clever! – and began to laugh. It took him a little while to settle down and tell me what was so clever. Nish, your adroitness is a marvel. Don’t you see? It’s not for building the shelter. It’s a signpost!

I stared at the gash in the tree. I don’t follow.

It’s pointing the way home! Here’s what happened. Quibble found a good place to build a shelter, but not here, and I don’t think the shelter is for her. You said she rode over the mountain. A horse needs a stable. The shelter is for the horse. Quibble got an ax and cord from somewhere, then she set out for wood. As she went, she cut gashes to help her find her way back. Look at the angle! She stood to the left of the tree and chopped.

She’s right-handed.

That doesn’t matter. What matters is that she chopped the gash on her outbound journey. The direction its angle points is her way home. If home were the other way—

—the gash would be on the other side of the tree!

Yes. Turn to your left, Nish. Go that way! Look for more saplings or another gash.

It wasn’t long, only a minute’s walk through the woods, before we found both: a pile of saplings, cut just like the first, lay at the foot of a tree, and in the tree was a gash. It pointed just a little to the right of the way we were already going. We were clearly on a trail. We walked on. Another pile, another gash. It was becoming a game. I wanted to talk to Iklil, fill the time between signposts with a story – perhaps he could explain what he’d meant by the cryptic remark about Ankaa – but he chided me to keep my mind on task and look where I was going, lest we lose the trail.

Having seen more than a dozen signposts, after less than half an hour’s walk we emerged into a wide clearing around a granite outcrop of the mountain. There, tethered by a long rope to a tree, stood Moth. Propped against the outcrop nearby was a tiny hut. It looked abandoned. I ran to Moth and rubbed his flank as he nickered in happiness at my appearance. Realizing my luck – with a horse, I had a quicker way out of the Vale of Teeth – I whooped loudly with joy.

Stop that racket before you call every wolf in the vale! Iklil warned.

No sooner had he said it than I heard a throaty snarl behind me. I turned. A wolf stood only ten feet away, growling and baring its fangs.

The kindness!

As I reached for the glass, the wolf stepped closer. Terrified, breathless, I held the sky-blue glass out towards the wolf and tried to think of a pleasant memory for lighting it, something besides sex with Quibble.

Never mind, Iklil burst out, just light the damn thing!

I felt Quibble’s touch, and the glass glowed with it. The wolf stopped midstride and mid-growl, then sat and stared at me. Focusing on the memory to maintain reverie, I crouched down facing the wolf. Its eyes followed, fixed on the glass. It was tranced. I began to breathe again.

Try walking away, Iklil suggested. See what it does.

I rose and stepped to one side, away from Moth. The wolf’s head turned, its gaze stuck to the glass in my hand. I backed away slowly. For my first few steps, the wolf sat where it was, but after I had backed up about six feet, it got up and walked towards me. I stood still, and it sat again. Just perfect! I thought. It’s a stalemate.

Apparently so. Look on the bright side, Nish. It’s a lone wolf. You could be facing a pack.

That’s not encouraging! I don’t see the saddle anywhere. There’s no way I can get up on Moth bareback and trance the wolf at the same time. So I’m not riding away from it.

What about the hut? Let’s go see if it has a door.

There could be more wolves in there, I objected. This could be their den.

Would Quibble have camped with a wolf pack?

You’re underestimating Quibble! I said. She might have done just that. Alnasl gave her a kindness. I imagine wolves are good protection if you can get them on your side.

Sure, Iklil said sarcastically. Quibble stayed up all night with a lit kindness, not getting a wink of sleep, and then she strolled out this morning and left Moth tied to a tree at their mercy.

I edged towards the hut. The wolf followed me.

To my relief, the hut had a plank door, fastened to its doorpost with windings of rope. It looked sturdy enough to keep out a wolf. Inside the door hung a loop of rope with both ends fed through a hole in a plank and knotted – the handle. Backing into the hut’s doorway as the wolf kept pace, I felt with my hand up and down the doorpost, seeking catch or hook. I found it: a stump of wood, apparently a sawn-off branch of the tree from which the doorpost was made. I grabbed the handle, yanked the door closed, and slid the loop over the stump.

At once, outside, the wolf lunged against the door, scratching at it and snarling again. I could see it between the gaps in the planks. It snuffled at the bottom of the door and began to dig in the dirt there.

I accused Iklil: Now we’re trapped, and it’s digging its way in!

A reedy, echoing voice – not the relic’s – said, “I hope you brought back my cord, lady! Now, what in kindness are you doing? Open the door. Let Clarity in.”

The glass-dream ended as I spun on my heels. At the back of the hut yawned the mouth of a cave. From the gloom within it, much to my shock, emerged a boy. I blinked my eyes, trying to adjust them to the dark.

No! I thought. Nish, this time you’ve really lost it.

But as my eyes adjusted and I stared, I had no doubt: there stood a boy.

Iklil, tell me I’m not imagining things. Am I really looking at a boy?

The relic huffed. It’s hard to miss him! Hold on, I’ll light the amber.

Lamplight shone between my fingers, and I opened my hand to spill light into the hut’s interior. The boy wore clothes of tanned elk skin. I couldn’t guess on sight how old he might be – in all my life, I’d never seen a boy older than three years. But like that boy, this boy had hair that was a platinum blond almost white.

“Open the door,” the boy repeated.

The wolf still pawed at the dirt there, and I didn’t think even once of obeying.

The boy leaned against the cave’s mouth and said in a surly tone, “Lady, it’s my house, my rules! We don’t put the wolf out. I thought you two made friends.”

Still I didn’t open the door. Out of patience, the boy stood upright, walked past me to the door, and grasped the loop.

Wake up! Iklil cried.

I slapped the boy’s hand away from the loop, shouting, “Don’t!”

He jumped backwards, almost into the cave’s mouth, and drew a knife from a sheath at his belt. “Who are you?” he demanded as he brandished the knife.

He didn’t look at me. His eyes were shut fast. He stuck his head forward, turned it slowly side to side. Not looking but listening for me.

One does not see, except in dream. So One listens.

I knew what this meant. Nonetheless my mind and heart balked at the meaning of what I saw, unwilling to accept it. When I got the word out, it was just a whisper.

“Index.”

The hand that held the knife lowered. “Who are you?” the boy whispered back.

“Definition.”

He sheathed his knife, then stretched out a groping hand and found the side of the cave’s mouth. Sitting on its lip, he breathed a heavy sigh. I couldn’t tell whether it was a sigh of exhaustion or relief, but when he spoke, I heard untold, patient waiting in his voice, and the word he said filled me all at once with wonder and love: “Mother.”