The train doors slid open, and a pretty woman with a bouncing blonde ponytail popped her head out. Her bright, happy smile quickly turned to confusion. She looked around uncertainly at the scene before her.
"All... aboard? Um, pardon, but who all is gettin' aboard?"
Maple's heart skipped painfully in her chest. She hadn't actually thought about how to explain the situation in the capital city. She was so caught up in what she needed to do, she hadn't thought about how to not bring the wrong attention to her frozen city when they were vulnerable.
As the only person left in Spice Rack, did that make her acting Prime Minister?
"Just us," said Grel, easy and breezy. "The rest of this is just the city getting ready for the good old Statue Festival."
"Statue Festival?" Asked the Conductor and Maple in unison.
"Oh, you haven't heard of it? Shame, because it a heck of a time. We're actually on our way to collect a shipment of materials for the contest." He sounded so convincing, Maple could almost buy his rouse. He even winked.
The blonde woman stepped out of the train, revealing herself to be a centaur. Her tail looked nearly identical to the ponytail, on her head Maple noted. She wore a blue conductor's uniform, that became a fine cape across her equine back. Her silver name tag read, 'Bushel O. Apples.'
"Tickets, then?" Bushel asked, clicked her ticket puncher expectantly.
Grel held up a finger, then dug around in the rough sack slung across his shoulders. Maple was quite interested his bag, as it was of a fabric she had never seen before, much thicker and rougher than hers.
Bushel made an impressed whistle when he handed her their tickets. "First class? Well shoot, I thought that funky guy and his standoffish friend bought out the whole train."
"First? Class?" Maple asked between clenched teeth, smile tight. Grel just leaned over to the conductor and waved his hand dismissively.
"Don't mind her, she's just excited about the contest. She doesn't get out much, you know."
Maple scowled at him as Bushel punched the tickets, and glanced down to her own bag. "Oh, excuse me, but I also have a little mail from the Du Provence Museum, courtesy of Peppermint Du Provence."
Bushel scooped up the books from her with a big, toothy grin. Then plopped them onto her broad horse back, and flourished her arm to allow them to pass. "Right this way!"
The pair hoisted their luggage and followed Bushel into the massive, grand train. The whistle screamed, then the locomotive began to chug-chug-chug into action. The world outside the windows started to move and soon their ride was flying away from everything Maple had ever known, toward the mountains and whatever adventure lay beyond.
The duo followed Bushel through car after train car, the wind whipping as they passed between them. The inside was an astounding and inviting mix of luxury and function. The wood paneling was freshly polished alongside the gleaming metal. The train route was ancient, its tracks lain at nearly the beginning of Salt's history; it was still a mystery just who was responsible, and why.
"So," Maple hissed to her traveling companion as they passed through the crowded dining car. Servers side stepped aside, balancing steaming trays expertly. "You really had to get first class tickets? That is not exactly low profile."
Grel glanced down at her over his glasses, his gemstone dragon eyes just showing. He shrugged. "It's not my fault they were on top. I saw tickets, I took them. You're going to complain that I got us better seats?"
Arguing with him was quickly becoming an activity of assured frustration and futility, so she stuffed it. She wasn't about to admit it to him, but she was a little curious about the first class experience. Maple had watched this train come and go, leaving her behind her whole life; it was almost unbelievable to be inside of it.
The thought of missing even one inch of such a mystery had been weighing on her to no small degree. Even if she wanted to focus on the mission at hand, like a good heroine in her favorite stories would, reading about adventures was very different to actually going on one. The books never seemed to mention the in-between bits of the heroine's journeys.
They passed into a grand car, near the front of the train where the engine belched black chuffs of smoke into the air. Bushel pulled the door back to one of the cabins, and made another of her sweeping gestures.
"Your seats."
Maple peeked around the centaur to see an incredibly surprised woman, and a slightly more obscured figure behind her. The room was hazy and had a heady, pungent smell. The woman, a human perhaps, quickly switched to hot anger as she sprang to her feet and dashed to the door.
She blocked their entrance, her arms folded and her blue eyes glittering dangerously. Her hair was inky black, falling in elegant waves down her back, and she was tall and lithe. Two spiraling horns rose up from each side of her head, not a human and not an elf. A thin, needle-like sword, a saber Maple remembered unhelpfully, rested at her hip.
"No visitors, no fans," the raven-haired woman barked. "I thought we were all very clear about this stipulation."
Bushel frowned, checking the tickets and room number again, then held them out for the woman to examine.
She snatched them from the centaur and glowered as she read. "No, this can't be right. Who are you two?"
"I'm Maple. This is Grel."
The disguised dragon dug an elbow painfully into her side. It suggested that, perhaps, she too was failing to keep a low profile. "We're the heads of the Spice Rack City Statue Contest."
"Never heard of you, or your contest."
"Well, madame," said Grel as he plucked the tickets out of her hands sharply. "That's not our problem, is it? We still have important statue-related business to attend to. So, why don't we keep it civil until we reach our destinations. Then you'll never have to deal with us again."
From inside the hazy car came a bubbling noise, followed by the sound of a man coughing. Then a laid back voice said, "aw, come on, Ivy, we're almost at Chilltopia anyway. Is a little company going to kill you?"
Ivy glared at them as Grel strode confidently in, and Maple followed sheepishly behind. She bid Bushel farewell as the centaur closed the door. Inside Maple could see the other passenger. A stout satyr man reclined casually in the plush seats, holding a glass contraption. He blew out a long stream of sweet-smelling smoke. His green locks were tied back into a fat ponytail, dark at the roots and a lighter lime at the ends. His olive skin was spattered with bright green and yellow freckles that winked as he smiled at Maple's shocked expression.
"You're Lettuce." She couldn't keep this in. If this wasn't the straw to break her strained back, she couldn't fathom what else could be. The most famous and popular bard in all of Salt, right in front of her.
Lettuce held up two fingers. "In the flesh, sister."
Ivy stomped over to Grel and got in their faces. Maple shrunk back, but Grel smiled viciously and almost seemed to get taller as he glowered down at her. Ivy's finger jabbed dangerously close to his chest.
"Listen here, Maple and Grel or whoever you really are, I don't know who you are or how you managed to get tickets that shouldn't exist. What I do know is that you two are only here because of his," she pointed a finger at Lettuce, "generosity. Don't even think about abusing it."
"Ive, dude, come one. Don't be like that," Lettuce said in a chiding whine that suggested he already knew she wouldn't listen. In fact, she did not.
"Well, you know, Ive," said Grel smugly, "we weren't expecting you two to be here either. So, maybe take your own advice?"
"Why are you wearing those dark glasses inside, anyway? Got something to hide, big boy?"
"Sorry for my medical condition."
The pair seethed at each other. Ivy looked like she wanted to bite his head off, but Grel only looked like a fat cat having too much fun with a mouse. Maple felt stuck, unable to stop her companion or his lies.
"Ivy," Lettuce tried again. "Okay, come on that's enough. Help me figure out my set list for the thing."
Ivy pointed two fingers at her eyes, then to Grel and Maple. Her face softened as turned to Lettuce. "You were supposed to have that figured out ages ago."
"Eh, you know how forgetful I am. Take a seat next to ya' boy and help me out. You always pick the best ones anyway. Want a hit?"
"No, dummy, I'm working." She shot a final, poisonous glare at Grel, then went to sit with her charge.
Grel made faces behind her back as she walked away, and more than one gesture Maple assumed must be rude in dragon culture, before he moodily found a seat by the other windows. She followed, clearly not welcome with Ivy and Lettuce, and slipped into the plush booth across from him.
"That went well," he said brightly. Now it was Maple's turn to scowl. She want to look mean like Ivy, and wished she could smack the smugness off his stupid, fake face. Even if it was a handsome face.
Snow was beginning to fall outside the window. The rolling, lush green of Spice Rack City and its surrounding countrysides had given way to the rocky starts of the towering Double RR Mountains. The train rumbled along the track pleasantly, as fat needled trees flashed by. The blue of the sky had become a gray sheet, and there was only more cold and snow to come. Thank goodness she owned so many sweaters.
Maple spent her time aboard reading the LOVELOCK book. With fresh eyes she read over the beloved passages, trying to parse new meaning or understanding with her new information. It also surfaced new questions, ones she might try to ask Grel if he had another serious, sober moment like earlier at the train station.
The only address on the letters in the book were to Spice Rack City, and written to a prominent mage, who happened to be one of her ancestors. That's how the museum even had this tome, passed down from one family's junk to the next. It was, relatively, recently that her family had come to the idea of monetizing the junk with a proper museum.
So then, who was Ruby? Who was she to this book, and who was she to Grel? She was a dragon, that much was clear, and one who could wield magic to some degree. Or at least she could once. The archivist let her mind drift with the snow. Maybe Ruby was Grel's girlfriend and he was coming to get her book? But, no, he had said something about the book belonging to his family. That was impossible, as this was a one of a kind book, and had only ever belonged to her family.
But then the more sour idea came to mind. He was a liar, and a damned good one.
Grel spent his time looking moodily out the window, with his head resting on his fist. Eventually he fell asleep, and Maple let him rest until the train pulled into the station at Chilltopia. At least when he was a sleep he was quiet.
Maple had, naturally, read about Chilltopia. A city perched high in the Double RR Mountains where it snowed all year-round. The town boasted the best skiing and winter sports in all of Salt, not that she cared about any of that. She was the farthest thing from athletic. She was more interested in how such a place could function. Half town, half winter resort.
No words were shared between the unlikely traveling pairs, though Ivy did make a show of leaving first and dragging Lettuce behind her. Maple had been, just a little, interested in getting his autograph. Still, they needed to catch the next train right away if they had even a whisper of hope to make it to Mt. LavaLavida on time. There was no time to lose.
They shuffled their way off the train in awkward single file. It wasn't until they spilled out into the cold evening that she could breathe a sigh of relief.
Grel rubbed his hands briskly up and down his arms. "It's freaking freezing."
"How eloquent."
"Why would you b-bring me somewhere like this? Don't you know I'm cold b-blooded?"
"I thought you put me in charge of this? Now you're going to complain?"
His began to glare, but suddenly and without warning he was propelled forward. He fell, and sprawled across the snowy ground face down. Behind him Maple was surprised to see a trio of skiers, their jumpsuits so colorful it made her wince, laughing. The leader, or at she assumed from his frosted tips and rainbow googles, nudged his buddies.
"Oops, sorry, pal. Maybe you should watch where you're going."
Grel spluttered on the ground, spitting snow. His face reddened and he finally settled into that glare. He attempted to push himself to standing, but slipped and fell again. The trio of ski bums laughed uproariously.
Grel managed to get back on his feet, and his tall frame loomed over the skiers. "How am I supposed to watch the back of my head, you yokels?! You pushed me! I'll have you arrested and thrown in the dungeon and-"
"You hear that Cosmo?" One of the skiers butt in. "Tall, dark and dorky says he's gonna throw you in the dungeon."
The leader with the frosted tips, Cosmo, flashed a cocky smirk. "Oh yeah?"
"Grel, come on, let's just go. We don't want to miss the train," Maple tried, watching on helplessly.
"Yeah, Grrrrrrel. Why don't you listen to your girlfriend and get out of here before we have real trouble," said Cosmo. He made a little shooing motion with his gloved hands.
Grel flashed a hot, angry look at Maple that made her shrink back. "We already have real trouble, Cosmo. Stupid name by the way."
"Nice come back."
"I'll show you a nice come back-!"
"Look, why don't we settle this the honorable way?" The other ski bum held her hands out, looking back and forth everyone. Then she solemnly nodded her head. "Ski duel."
"You're on!" Snarled Grel, rage creeping into his voice. "I'll destroy you in battle."
The ski trio shared a confused look, and Maple tugged roughly on his sleeve.
"Grel, knock it off. We can't miss the next train."
Grel only shook her off angrily. "No, we're settling this. Honor is on the line. Time and place, tell me."
"The ski contest tomorrow. Be there or be... whatever you are I guess," said Cosmo, and his cronies high fived. Though, Maple didn't think it was a particularly high-five worthy burn.
"Grel, the train, please."
"Shut up, Maple! I do not care about your stupid train! I care about justice, and not being disrespected."
"Then you better not show up tomorrow." Another high five, this time a bit more justified.
"Oh, I'll be there! And I'll rend the scales from you!"
"O-okay." Cosmo shouldered past them, and the trio stalked off.
"What do you think you're doing?" Maple was outraged. "What are you doing picking fights with strangers? My town is in danger! My family!"
"I don't care about your stupid, worthless human town. I don't care about you. I care about doing what I need to do, and quite frankly, you've been the main thing preventing that."
Insults, bile, hatred and more bubbled up in her mind. She felt like her head was going to pop, like she was just going to burst. Why he was so cruel and thoughtless? She wanted to scream or maybe cry or hit Grel, all things she would never do, but anything to make him understand.
"Grel, please, we can't miss the next train. It's the last one."
There was a deep whistle from withing the train station.
"Do you mean that one?" He pointed over her shoulder to where their train was happily chugging away. She felt like she had been dropped into ice water.
"Yes, Grel. That one. Good job, now we're..."
"Screwed?"
"Pretty much! Well, tough guy, now what are we going to do? We don't have anywhere to stay, and certainly I don't have money for lodging."
"We're going to do what I want for once. Don't worry about money, I've got enough to cover us. Let's just go get a room in that inn over there, get some food because I'm starving, and then tomorrow I'll win the ski fight. Then we can figure out what we're doing next."
"Ski contest. Or duel I guess."
"What's the difference?"
Maple pointed to a big sign plastered to a pillar in the station. It was advertising the big ski contest tomorrow. "It's a contest, not a battle. You don't fight on skis."
"What do you do on them?"
"Seriously? You ski on them."
"Solid. Cool. Great. And to ski is to...?"
Maple took a deep, steadying breath. "Grel, I'm going to ask you just one question and I need you to answer me honestly. Do you know what skiing is?"
"I do not know what that is, no."
Ahh, so this was final the straw.