A Thousand Thousand Islands 2 Kraching The Place of The Paw (v1) [PDF]

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KRACHING THE PLACE OF THE PAW

A THOUSAND THOUSAND ISLANDS

KRACHING

TEXT ZEDECK SIEW ILLUSTR ATIONS MUNK AO

A THOUSAND THOUSAND ISL ANDS

FIVE DAYS ON FOOT, WESTWARDS Wooden posts line the road. Carved with feline forms: snarling tigers, sulking tabbies. You feel them staring.

THE GOD AUW A block of meranti stands in the village centre, wider than your arm-span. Tall atop it sits a panther with six limbs, with a head of tumbling hair, with a human face – smirking. This is the god Auw. He is blackened by smoke from burnt offerings. The plinth he sits on is scratched by cats, and bigger things.

AUW THE WOODWORKER In his first story, Auw is a woodcutter. He lives a simple life. He takes that as he needs from the forest: to kindle, to build, to carve. Even in that time, the forest of the valley is sacred. Full of spirits. Its trees grow well and strong. The king in the east hears of their strength, and wishes such timber for his fleet of ships. Soldiers come, with felling axes. There is a great fire, a great cutting. The valley is cleared. Sap spilled, civets splattered. And the spirits cry out for help. Auw replies: “O spirits, don’t worry! I know a way.” That night, the king’s soldiers play drums. Auw steals into their camp. With his chisel and mallet, he begins his work. As the soldiers drum he carves. Bam-bam-bam, tok-tok-tok, a log has turned into tiger; Boom-boom-boom, tck-tck-tck, a bolt has become a leopard; Bom-bom-bom, tuk-tuk-tuk, the branches are fishing-cats. Auw works fast. Auw works well. When Auw is done, his carvings jump away – some to run, some to lunge at the drunken soldiers, to turn them into prey. This is Auw’s first story: how he saved the valley, and why the forest is full of cats.

AUW KRACHING TOWN You hear the tapping of chisels. There is sawdust in every yard. As their fields and fruits ripen, the folk here carve wood. They carve lintels for their doors and windows. They carve totem poles that line village paths. They carve cats, to honour the forest.

Sometimes a cat goes missing from a window panel or roadside post. A new cat appears at the woodcarver’s door, purring. These cats are greeted like children returning. Cats are kind to their adopted households: they lend magic and hunt game.

NEHA, TRADER A cluster of tents. Bullocks graze and boys stack baskets. A buffalo-woman supervises their work, snorting. This is Neha, the trader. She sells silks, fine tools, pearl jewellery. She leaves with crafts, forest goods, and the odd adventurous youth.

ARI, BOOKKEEPER A little baby in a large birdcage. Ari is a counting spirit; Neha bought him to help keep her numbers straight. He has gone missing. “Just updated all my ledgers, too!” Neha says, a-huff. “Damn fool me, should’ve known better than to bring him here. It’s the cats, probably? They’ve carried him off somewhere.” Neha offers a steep discount for Ari’s safe return. A bay cat stole him. It will roll him off a cliff, hoping to smash his cage.

CRAFT GOODS OF KRACHING Anything from the forest is touched by its spirits. That scent never really rubs off, no matter how far you go.

HOLY ROSEWOOD Priests from up and down the coast come to Kraching, sometimes, to commission their gods in gore-red rosewood. This is not only about beauty. The wood itself is blessed. Acts blasphemous to the idol are impossible, in its presence.

HAUNTED MAHOGANY Some trees are easily bored. These call out to woodcutters. “Take me away!” they say. They get turned into masks. They get into theatre. Many have illustrious careers. Who hasn’t heard of Tusked Hazan, the comic genius, the toast of Yaw Ming?

MYSTERY BAUBLE Cats might bring you a critter you cannot identify. Boil it up; scrimshaw the bone, dye the skin; hang it from a string. Indeterminate providence gives it power. Wear it and you always know who you are. No mind-bending magics will work on you.

CAT PILL Several varieties. Most popular is the kind made from cat fur. Swallow two, three times a day. You can talk to animals. Rarest is an effervescent tablet, distilled from feline faeces. Drop it into tea. Whoever drinks it falls in love with you.

CAT TOY Ultimately they are wild things, never fully tame. This can be an issue, in Kraching, where tigers pad about town. An ensorcelled wand, ball, or chew toy. Speak its command word and it becomes totally irresistible to all felids.

SHROOMWOOD The touch of fungus-men kills trees. It transforms timber into a substance the smell and consistency of peanut brittle. Burnt as incense, it is a powerful psychedelic. Anything you imagine materialises – and stays materialised – in its smoke.

ALLU AND ANURRA You drift to one of the houses. Spice fumes the air. Allu is cooking quail curry. His quail curry is famous. Anurra is one of Kraching’s best woodcarvers. They have three dozen cats. Their larder is never empty. They are mostly happy.

ANURRA, WOODCARVER Calloused hands, muscled arms. Quick to laugh. But her smile disappears if she thinks you are not looking. “In the hills, when she was young,” Allu tells you. “She was caught by a witch. The witch gave her a choice: hands that make art, or a womb that bears children. Anurra chose her hands.” Allu asks you find the witch, force it to return his wife’s fertility. Anurra will hate him for this.

PERSONALITIES IN KRACHING

JYOTI AND JOVIN, DARLINGS Pale ginger tabbies. Everybody who sees them stops and fawns. “Oh, Jyoti, Jovin, where have you two been?” The pair went missing for a month. Agents of the Retractable Claw, back from murdering a Bambung prince.

ARIMA, HERBWIFE Pursed lips, unusually rough walking stick. Glaring tabby for a hat. Sells fertility ointments, manages confinements. The last two babies she delivered were born with antennae. A bad sign. A forest witch is messing with people.

KOVIN, BUILDER Eyes whose lids never completely open. If somebody needs a standing structure built, they go see Kovin. He is a psychic null. Poison to spirits. A house he puts together makes no mischief; basically he kills its timber dead.

MAHI, WOODCARVER Jingly earrings, fine dresses. Gets many commissions from far-off temples; her sleek, spare style is popular. Hiring bodyguards. Her apprentice needs to deliver an idol, but the receiving priesthood is undergoing a schism.

THE DIYA OF KRACHING The ruler of Kraching is called the diya. Diyas are divine appointees: anointed by the god Auw as his brides or grooms. He always gives the job to somebody capable. He never gives the job to somebody who wants it.

AUW THE SUITOR In his twenty-first story, Auw is god of the valley. He is cruel, treating his people as playthings: to kill or abuse as he pleases. In that time there is carver called Diya: long of hair, with dancing fingers. As soon as he sees her, Auw is besotted. “Offer yourself to me, girl,” Auw says. “Else I’ll take you by force.” Diya replies: “O great god Auw! I am nobody, next to my friend. She is a very great beauty. Also, she is your biggest fan!” Auw is flattered. “Bring her to me, then,” says he.

Clever Diya works through the night. Ketok, ketok, ketok! From a log she sculpts a tigress: long of tail, with shining flanks. She presents her tigress to Auw the next day. Auw is besotted. Immediately he bites the tigress’s neck and mounts it. But Diya has laid a trap – her wooden tigress is a size too small! Auw, engorged by desire, finds himself hopelessly caught. “O great god Auw!” Diya says. “Now I have snared you. You must grant me my wish! I wish that you stop being cruel. Stop abusing us as you please!” Auw hurriedly nods, agreeing, in too much pain to resist.

DIYA’S MANSION The green glint of eyes. They watch you from the foliage. There is growling. The guards that prowl here are not human. Up the steps, inside, the hall is filled with warm rugs, exquisite panelling. Everything matted with shed fur.

AUW’S GATE

Behind the mansion, a straight trail through bamboo thickets. Peer down this way and your view dolly-zooms. This is the only route to the heart of the forest, the god Auw’s palace. If you use it without permission you will get lost.

ADIYA, CHIEF Diya Adiya is a long-suffering man. Usually he sits at the edge of his high seat, because some large cat refuses to vacate it. The cats lolling about swipe at you.

UTTAN, CHAMBERLAIN Loose, sunburnt skin. Long pauses, then bursts of nervous speech. A jewelled cat wand that he absently waves. “The Bambung ambassador’s – well. Gone missing.” Cat wand goes swish. “I thought he was a prying sort. A magician, I thought.” Swish-swish. “But if he doesn’t come back, there’ll be trouble.” Uttan wants the ambassador found. He was last seen yesterday morning, hiking uphill, led by a leopard cat.

CATS OF KRACHING

They are either primeval nature spirits, or wood carvings come alive. Or maybe just cats. Or maybe all three. Tiger or leopard, fishing or bay, dusty-faced or cow-spotted – the one rubbing its side against you has: 1

A stub tail, like a furry fish hook.

2

One eye almond-white and blind.

3

A permanent limp in a back leg.

4

All its canines gone – except one.

5

A face-shape sharp and fox-like.

6

No fur. Skin wrinkly, greasy, bare.

And the innate ability to: 1

Hear thoughts actively hostile to it, and determine their source.

2

Projectile-vomit balls of flesh-eating acid. If it heaves, watch out!

3

Change its coat colour to match surroundings. Like a chameleon.

4

Raise a human corpse it rubs against as a zombie, slave to its will.

5

Climb any tree or wooden structure, defying the laws of gravity.

6

Heal open wounds and surface injuries by licking, licking, licking.

All cats are magic, and may learn the same sorceries a human might – provided they have the discipline for study. Most do not.

ENCOUNTERS IN KRACHING FOREST

These hills are strange and scary. Local woodsmen do not enter them without both prayers and protection. Keeping to the path, you see: 2

A tortoiseshell, trotting along, a bird in its mouth. The bird has a human face – crying, frightened, calling for help.

3

Human skin hanging from a branch. Like a deflated balloon. Usually filled by a breath spirit. It will be back, soon.

4

A woodcutter, slumped against a root. Symptoms of heat exhaustion and dehydration; somehow dying from thirst.

5

A tortoise. Watches you with wise eyes. Heavier than you can easily carry. Shell is etched with divinatory ideograms.

6

A headscarved woman. Has a katydid’s head: eyes, mandibles, antennae. A witch. You can bargain with her, for power.

7

Assassins from the Temple of the Retractable Claw. Masks and bare skin, sickle blades and acrobatics. Stalking you.

8

Firefly lights, congregating into the shape of a child. A ghost colony. Each firefly is a soul. It cannot wait to grow taller.

9

Sleepwalking fungus-men, lurching, infecting a new part of the forest. Their touch turns your flesh into fragrant resin.

10 Illegal loggers. Axes, machetes, a blunderbuss. wrists and necks tied with anti-spirit amulets. Very prone to panic. 11 A thin stream, tumbling over rocks. Tumbling uphill. A serpentine water spirit. Constricts and drowns prey. 12 A calico, dragging along a severed left foot, leaving a bloody trail. A severed right foot pogos after them, in pursuit.

If you roll doubles, a team of woodcutters from Kraching are also present. Competent, with feline guide-companions. They can take you back to town.

THE WAN KISI OF THE RETRACTABLE CLAW

The diya of Kraching is the god Auw’s formal consort. The wan kisi is his secret lover – an illicit relationship to keep things interesting. He always chooses somebody with skill and ambitious. He never chooses somebody he can trust.

AUW THE OUTLAW

In her eleventh story, Auw is a traveller. Riding, running, racing the wind; resolved to see the corners of creation. In that time, she falls in with a bandit. His name is Wan Kisi: broad of chest, very bold-voiced. “Come with me!” he says, hand outstretched. What can Auw do? She swoons. There are a hundred capers. Treasure ships to rob. Gems to steal from high altars. Ladies to bed, and lords to evade. A trail of carnage, across land and sea. Until they are finally caught.

In the dungeon, Wan Kisi goes to one knee. Torchlight bounces off his liquid eyes. “O Auw, darling, we are to be executed. I know you have magic, to change your shape. You can escape. What about me?” Auw, full of love, says: “O Wan Kisi, dear, I will lend you my power.” Wan Kisi will become a kitten. He will slip through the bars of their cell. Then he will become human again. He will stretch his arm back through the bars – returning Auw’s ability, so she may change, too. That is their plan. Wan Kisi takes Auw’s magic, turns into a kitten, slips through the bars. And he disappears.

TEMPLE OF THE RETRACTABLE CLAW

Lanterns, through the trees. Houses, paths, paddies. A whole village, under the forest canopy. Here the people are actually cats. Acolytes of the Retractable Claw, the god Auw’s spies. Village life is part of their training; they are pretending to be human. Acolytes are trained in gymnastic skills; all weapons; most poisons and seductions; magic and the art of shape-changing. A punishing education. Those who fail are eaten by their classmates.

WAN KISI’S DWELLING An open yard in front of a hollow tree. The wan kisi gives his lessons in the yard. He sleeps in the tree trunk. The wan kisi is always Wan Kisi; they never keep their original name. The current one is a mahogany mask: a feline face, unadorned.

WAN KISI, SPYMASTER Leopard cat companion. Classic vizier type: schemes within schemes and whatnot. Rubs his hands a lot. “Well, well,” he says, taking you aside. “I may be able to use you. I need something delivered to Bambung. None of my usual operatives are suitable. Too traditional, you might say.” He hands you a sealed note. The note details Wan Kisi’s plans to murder the diya. Incriminating stuff. Why put such plans in writing?

6 sided dice

2019