The Wizard's Terrarium

Chapter Eight

Alone again, thought Maurice, miserably.

He had thought maybe he could at least have some bonding time with Nenth, maybe even do a side quest with her, but the pale-skinned mystery woman had immediately disappeared, climbing up onto the nearest building and leaping off across the rooftops. Apparently that's how her people traveled.

Maurice wondered why he had bothered to get his hopes up. He'd been foolish enough to think that he'd found his herd. Hells, Six Candy had even treated him as an equal when they thought they were in danger on the road. But as soon as Maurice's presence had become an inconvenience, Six simply dropped him and walked away without a second glance.

Maurice had thought he was wandering the streets of Onderberg aimlessly but when he looked up, he saw a tavern. He sniffed through his large nostrils, was sure he smelled the telltale scent of gin and juniper berries. Hello my old friend...

But then he remembered a soft hand on his arm. What had Falling Rain said? They needed him. Stay out of trouble, she'd said. Had she meant those words? Or was she just using him, like Six Candy and everyone else he'd met since he'd left home?

As Maurice stood in the street, wavering, something caught his eye. Adjacent to the tavern was a building with a courtyard filled with bizarre metal sculptures. Intrigued, he went into the courtyard to have a closer look.

The sculptures were designed with interlocking gears, like those of a clock, but with intricate patterns and facing all four of the cardinal directions. He found one with the key still in it, gave it a few gentle turns to set it into motion. No fewer than thirty gears of various sizes spun slowly in a mesmerizing pattern. As Maurice walked around the sculpture, he noticed how the pattern that was visible changed depending on what angle you viewed it from. He nodded appreciatively. "It's beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it," said a voice from behind him.

Maurice turned, startled. A Melesi woman with an artisan's apron smiled up at him. "I'm sorry," he said, realizing how many liberties he'd taken. "I didn't mean to intrude, I was just curious."

"I don't see a closed gate," said the woman. "Annelies Assendorp, at your service. I'm the artist that made these."

"I am Maurice," he said, taking the hand she offered and giving it a shake. Then he turned back to the sculpture. "So it is art."

The woman chuckled. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I've always thought art was painting on canvas. I didn't know art could move."

"Art is whatever you want it to be, my friend."

Maurice glanced over at Annelies. "It can't be that simple. I couldn't just take a piece of rubbish and say it's art. Could I?" he added, uncertain.

The badger woman grinned. "I dare say you could, if you put some feeling into it. Art is about expression, about finding some deep truth about the world and revealing it for others to see."

"What truth are you revealing with this one?" Maurice nodded at the spinning gears.

"Oh no," she said with a laugh. "I've already done my part. Now it is your turn."

Puzzled, Maurice studied the sculpture more closely. He focused on one gear, saw how its motion got passed on to the next gear, which then got passed on to the next, and so on. "It's all interconnected," he said, slowly. "If one part moves, every part moves." He turned back to Annelies. "Is that it?"

The Melesi put a finger to her nose, her eyes twinkling. "The meaning of this is whatever you say it is."

"But that doesn't make sense. What if someone else were to come along, and say, 'No, that's not it at all, it's really about such and such.' Would they also be right?"