Flight of the Gazebo

Chapter 5 - Skishbas

Heyglmama stretched his arms wide, pressed himself against the side of his skishba fruit, and caressed its soft skin with pride. This year had been the best year for skishbas for some time, but of all the skishbas so jealously cultivated and guarded by the kynbar, his was the best. The pride of the crop. This year would see him invested as horingalunan, see if it didn't. He would have all the esteem and authority he so richly deserved amongst the kynbar and would knock that unworthy Gelnmama from his position. Gelnmama! He snorted. That fraud's skishba fruit did not stand a chance this year. Not against the beauty that he, Heyglmama, had produced.

He had spent many long nights defending the fruit from slirgs, many days carefully cleaning every inch of its vastness, many hours singing growth-stimulating songs... He stepped back and admired the skishba's perfect unblemished skin. Every moment he had invested in it would soon be worth it.

He walked along the well-trodden path circling the great fruit, his short legs following a shuffling ceremonious pattern. His deep set ruby-red eyes checked the fierce, carved effigies that kept away evil spirits. His three-fingered hands stroked the swollen, spongy surface of the fruit itself, trailed across the blue paint of the totems promoting growth and health. Craning his thin neck so that his head quills brushed the bony plates on his back, he looked up at the great mound of pale pinkness looming above him. The last few days had seen the fruit's skin change from its hard, armoured stage to the soft, silky texture of a skishba nearing ripeness.

He would spend day and night next to it from now on, gauging the exact moment when he should make the incisions to draw out the precious spores. Too early and the spores would not be ready. Too late and the skishba would burst on its own and scatter the harvest to the wind.

He hugged himself with glee and did a little skipping dance to thank the spirits who had seen fit to give him such wondrous bounty. Already he was looking ahead to the time after the harvest. Once the spores were safely stored, he would begin curing the fruit's deflated skin, painting on the mixture rendered from the bark of kianna trees. Months of painstaking preparation had yielded enough of the preserving mixture to cover the deflated skin of even this enormous fruit. He clicked his quills with satisfaction. In fact, so hard had he worked he would have enough mixture left over to sell at a handsome profit to his neighbours who hadn't been so thorough in their calculations. With the skin preserved he would put in place the internal structure of poles, brought in at not inconsiderable expense from those thieving washnaks on the other side of the river, that would transform the skishba from a bag of loose, cured skin to a home. Nay, more than a home. A palace.

Life was good. He rattled his quills with pleasure and stepped back to view his pride and joy. His magnificent skishba fruit.

A sound made him look up. A high, shrieking wail came from the sky. Something was falling, rushing towards him. He staggered back, quills raised in alarm.

The wail flattened into a single tone of terror, and the falling thing smashed into his skishba. The great fruit shook with the force of the blow. With a sound like ripping wet wool, huge splits tore up its sides and the priceless spores puffed out in roiling, white clouds.

Heyglmama's cries of anguish took over from where the screams had left off. It was ruined! His beloved skishba fruit was slowly deflating, an empty, ruptured skin settling to the ground, the spores that would have earned him wealth and power puffing away on the wind.

A stream of kynbar poured from the village to see what the fuss was about. They found Heyglmama rigid with shock, his quills standing on end, his backplates extended and bright with emotion. And before him lay the collapsing skin of his glorious skishba.

"What happened?" shouted an elder.

The paralysis which had seized Heyglmama released its grip. "It was a devil! A devil flew from the sky and destroyed my skishba."