“It’s a circumstance I want to
correct,” Redd said. “I already know that my maze is located in
the
Garden of Uncompleted Mazes, but I need you to tell me where the garden is.” “Yadda, yadda,” said the purple caterpillar. “Yadda, yadda, yaddda.” “The question is not where the Garden of Uncompleted Mazes is but when,” Blue grumbled, his mouth full of caramel.
“When the Garden of Uncompleted Mazes is?” the orange caterpillar asked, doubtful. “That’s the question!” exclaimed the red caterpillar. The oracles giggled and fell silent, alternately munching their tarty tarts and puffing on their hookah. Finally, with a look of exasperation, the yellow caterpillar said to Redd, “Du-uh. We’re waiting for you to ask the question!”
Redd balled her hands into fists. “When is the Garden of Uncompleted Mazes?” she rasped. “Oh, now and then, now and then,” Blue answered, upon which all of the caterpillars shook with loud laughter—all except Green, who continued to munch a tarty tart and blink at Redd with an appraising, curious expression.
Unable to hold back any longer, Redd aimed her crooked stick at them as if it were a rifle or bayonet and—
Foo-foo-foo-foo-foo-foosh!
Fireballs shot out. The caterpillars’ six mushrooms erupted. Flames licked the sky, sizzled out as quickly as they’d come. The mushrooms had been charred black, but there was no sign of the caterpillars. “Idiots! Useless idiots!” Redd shouted.
Vollrath, The Cat, Siren, and Alistaire dropped to the ground and covered their heads as she lashed out at the landscape, conjuring orb generators, crystal shot, and flaming spears. A shadow fell over them as an enormous scythe formed in the air and began to swing, lopping mushrooms flat. But at the very height of the violence—the exploding fungi, the thousand razor-cards shredding mushroom stalks—Redd felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and there was the green caterpillar, nonchalantly puffing on a small hookah. Redd held up a hand; the outsized scythe paused mid-swing, the orb generators and razor-cards and flaming spears hung suspended in mid-flight. “The Garden of Uncompleted Mazes exists in the could-have-been,” the oracle said. “What could have been was then. But it is also now. Do you understand?” “I don’t want to understand. Tell me where the garden is or you will lose the valley forever.” The caterpillar pulled at his water pipe and considered the renegade princess before him: the hate-infused creases of her toughened skin; the knotty hair; the gown of rose vines in constant slithery motion. At length, he said, “To get there, it is necessary for you to think back to the precise moment when your becoming queen—a thing to be—became a could-have-been. Let your mind be wholly absorbed in that moment. Give yourself up to it. Reexperience it in all of its emotional devastation. Once you accomplish this, you will see, somewhere in the rear of the memory, a small door. Through this door, you will find the garden.”
Redd was suspicious. “Why are you telling me this when the others didn’t?”
Garden of Uncompleted Mazes, but I need you to tell me where the garden is.” “Yadda, yadda,” said the purple caterpillar. “Yadda, yadda, yaddda.” “The question is not where the Garden of Uncompleted Mazes is but when,” Blue grumbled, his mouth full of caramel.
“When the Garden of Uncompleted Mazes is?” the orange caterpillar asked, doubtful. “That’s the question!” exclaimed the red caterpillar. The oracles giggled and fell silent, alternately munching their tarty tarts and puffing on their hookah. Finally, with a look of exasperation, the yellow caterpillar said to Redd, “Du-uh. We’re waiting for you to ask the question!”
Redd balled her hands into fists. “When is the Garden of Uncompleted Mazes?” she rasped. “Oh, now and then, now and then,” Blue answered, upon which all of the caterpillars shook with loud laughter—all except Green, who continued to munch a tarty tart and blink at Redd with an appraising, curious expression.
Unable to hold back any longer, Redd aimed her crooked stick at them as if it were a rifle or bayonet and—
Foo-foo-foo-foo-foo-foosh!
Fireballs shot out. The caterpillars’ six mushrooms erupted. Flames licked the sky, sizzled out as quickly as they’d come. The mushrooms had been charred black, but there was no sign of the caterpillars. “Idiots! Useless idiots!” Redd shouted.
Vollrath, The Cat, Siren, and Alistaire dropped to the ground and covered their heads as she lashed out at the landscape, conjuring orb generators, crystal shot, and flaming spears. A shadow fell over them as an enormous scythe formed in the air and began to swing, lopping mushrooms flat. But at the very height of the violence—the exploding fungi, the thousand razor-cards shredding mushroom stalks—Redd felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and there was the green caterpillar, nonchalantly puffing on a small hookah. Redd held up a hand; the outsized scythe paused mid-swing, the orb generators and razor-cards and flaming spears hung suspended in mid-flight. “The Garden of Uncompleted Mazes exists in the could-have-been,” the oracle said. “What could have been was then. But it is also now. Do you understand?” “I don’t want to understand. Tell me where the garden is or you will lose the valley forever.” The caterpillar pulled at his water pipe and considered the renegade princess before him: the hate-infused creases of her toughened skin; the knotty hair; the gown of rose vines in constant slithery motion. At length, he said, “To get there, it is necessary for you to think back to the precise moment when your becoming queen—a thing to be—became a could-have-been. Let your mind be wholly absorbed in that moment. Give yourself up to it. Reexperience it in all of its emotional devastation. Once you accomplish this, you will see, somewhere in the rear of the memory, a small door. Through this door, you will find the garden.”
Redd was suspicious. “Why are you telling me this when the others didn’t?”