The reason for this is that these two particular young Lapi hardly ever use their room. For Aviri it's more of a place to store clothing and sleep when he's actually not outdoors. As for his roommate, Kalvin (one of the few Chalks to sport small antlers) is never around. The boy is always with his Rughrat flock, usually up near the castle, and is even more antisocial than Aviri.
Kalvin's constant absence works fine for Aviri, especially now. The other boy's unused bed makes for an ideal place to roll out the map acquired from Fimble Oggton. What Aviri wasn't expecting was that the unrolled map is bigger than the bed at nearly three feet by six! Then there is the challenge of copying it, since it's not like any map the Lapi has seen before: it's all curves and arrows and numbers and letters and words in a language Aviri doesn't know. And there's not an inch of it that is bare. The ripple-like patterns merge together, the lines spreading wide or bunching close and the numbers and symbols barely have any space between them. The date on the map is from sixty years in the past (and the only understandable written notation) and the material is unfamiliar as well.
Aviri looks at the map a long while, trying to make heads or tails out of the cryptic lines and symbols. It almost seems as though he's been broken--he's not twitching or muttering or anything; he just stares at it. Then, suddenly, he wanders about the room, gathering paper, pens, ink, testing the ones against the other to make sure it doesn't bleed. Returning to the map, he again looks at it a moment before lying down his blank paper atop the other map and starts meticulously copying down the symbols, his hand sketching as if he were drawing instead of writing.
It takes about forty pieces of paper to fully copy the map, and an entire bottle of ink. The Lapi's finger fur is stained with ink as well, and his wrist is practically throbbing from the hours of drawing.
Aviri looks at his work, stepping back while massaging his wrist. Satisfied he did a good job, he collects the pieces (marked so that one could put them back together in the right order) and puts them in his satchel. Rolling up the original and putting it back in it's original pack, he heads out to find Fimble
While there are boats at the pier, Aviri can't tell if any of them are Trilup's, and it's too early still for Fimble to be at the Boathouse yet, assuming she actually does do work on the fishing nets when they're brought in for the day. Of course, there's still the problem of reading the map he's copied as well.
A barrel of fresh fish (or at least something that's splashing) near the shack at least hints that there's an otter manning it.
The smell of the nearby swamp doesn't bother Aviri as he heads down the pier, map-tube in hand. He heads in the direction of the splashing, hoping someone could point him to Fimble or Trillup.
A thick black tail is draped over the shack's counter, with two webbed feet propped up on the edge as well. There's no sign of the rest of the Akwavi though, so he's probably sitting back and napping.
Aviri approaches the otter timidly. He tapps the tube against one hand in thought before clearing his throat quietly, trying to get the attention of Akwavi.
Lapi are not known for being loud, and the polite vocal attempt's only apparent effect is to elicit a bubbly snore from the other side of the counter.
The snore seems to make Aviri even more cautious. He repeatedly walks closer, then backs away as if fighting a battle in his own mind. He looks around the area and returns to the sleeping otter. He looks into the swamp, thinks a moment, then emits a loud and resonant sneeze that echoes off seems to echo between the shack and the swamp.
"Bur!?" comes a surprised snort from the shack, followed by the sound of something falling over with a loud thud. A few moments later and an older otter looks out over the counter, rubbing the back of her head.
Aviri feigns to be recovering from the sneeze and says, "Oh, sorry. Not used to the ... uh ..." he gestures to the swamp.
"World?" the Akwavi asks. "Water? Fish?" The woman rumages around until she finds a battered piece of felt that is apparently a hat, and puts it on her head. "What can I do yer for this fine.. uh.." She checks the overcast sky, trying to figure out where the sun is. "This fine day," she concludes.
"People," Aviri mutters to himself, finishing his original thought. Louder, he says, "Looking for Fi ..." he stops himself, takes a deep breath, and says more slowly, "I'm looking for Fimble. Do you know her?"
This causes the woman's bushy eyebrows to rise up. "Fimble? Fimble Oggton?" she asks, just to be certain. "What is it you want with her?"
"Got something to return to her," Aviri says, indicating the map tube. "Am a bit early," he mutters quietly. "Maybe should return later?"
"Fimble loaned you a map?" the otter asks, grinning now. "What map is it?"
"Just something for some research," Aviri says. He pulls the map slightly away from the otter. "Promised I'd give it back. Though she might be here."
"She's mendin' nets," the female otter notes. "Won't be out this way 'til after the fishing boats are in. How do yer know here anyway?" This otter seems awfully curious.
Aviri looks out into the swamp as if expecting Fimble to be visible from here. "Just met her in the Boathouse," he says. "Offered to help me with research." Again he indicates the map as he turns back to face the woman. "Know where she is?"
"Back on the barge, I hope," the otter says. Then she smiles, noting, "At least, she was when I came out here. I'm her mother, Jumble."
Aviri is visibly surprised, but his face falls to one of slightly-hidden fear. "Oh, okay, then," he says. "P-leasure to meet you." He gives a slight bow. "On the barge, then. So ... not here. Got it." He looks around again. "Wouldn't happen to know where Trillup is?"
"Probably out fishing," Jumble says, and holds out a webbed paw. "You can give me the map though.. what's your name, anyway?"
Aviri thinks a moment as if having difficulty remembering his name. "Uh ... Aviri Chalk," he manages to say. "K-kinda said I'd give it back to her...." He looks back into the swamp, though in the direction of the barge. "Wouldn't happen to have a boat, would you?" he asks Jumble.
Jumble makes slow, exaggerated stretch out past the counter, so she can turn and look up at the 'Bote Rentils' sign above the shack. "Well, I suppose I do have a boat," she says with a grin. "Did you already find out what you needed from the map then?"
"Made a few notes," Aviri says. He looks up at the sign and his right ear twitches. "Right. That," he mutters. "How much for one? A boat, that is."
"Hmmm, to go out to the net barge?" Jumble asks. "Do you know how to find it?"
Aviri says, "I think so. Been before, and have a good memory."
"An' you know how to pole a skiff?" Jumble asks next, her whiskers twitching.
"N-not so much," Aviri says sheepishly.
"Mm-hmm," Jumble notes, then looks down behind the counter and.. well, from the way her body is jerking she could be kicking something. "Wake 'up, Emmett, gotta run som'at out to the flotilla!" she barks.
"I'm up!" grumbles the familiar voice of Emmett Oggton, who pops up behind the counter next, although all of the fur on one side of his face is pressed flat. "Hey, Avery.. what's wi' the map?" he asks, smiling.
"Hhi, Emmet," Aviri stumbles. "Used it for research. Trying to return it."
"He's holdin' it for me," Jumble claims, and leaves the shack, appearing on the pier a moment later and waving for the Lapi to follow her. It's clearer now that Jumble is a parent - she's wearing clothes. Well, a vest and shorts, which is as much as any working otter can be expected to wear, but it's a sign of maturity and marriage.
Aviri follows Jumble, unsure and unsteady at first but eventually building courage.
Jumble grabs some fish out of the 'fresh' barrel and stuffs them into a sack, which she tosses into the center of one of the skiffs. "Get in the front," she tells Aviri as she takes up the pole-oar at the back.
Aviri obeys, getting into the baot without much trouble in the way of balancing. He sits down awkwardly, however, trying to both gauge Jumble's demeanor and not look at her--something he finds trickier than he'd expected. He resigns himself to just looking into the water.
During the day, the swamp is deceptively calm. Insects buzz around and make noise, and there's the occasional splash, but overall it's peaceful, especially since Jumble keeps an even pace and hasn't asked anything. The fish-sack eventually stops flopping after a few minutes as well.
The lack of conversation leaves Aviri filling his time with the swamp around him. The swim out to the barge left little time (or light) to see things, and so he watches the area, trying to identify the various plants and fungi that grow here.
The Oggton flotilla is also more impressive during the day, instead of just glimpsing it via the few marker lanterns. There must be two dozen of the barges anchored together, and a few of them are surprisingly large, serving as communal areas. One the bigger barges even sports an elaborate looking crane with pulleys and oversized wooden winches.
The one with the nets is easy to spot as well, being covered in nets and all. Fimble is equally easy to spot, thanks to her brightly colored Mohawk, although she isn't alone. Several other otters are working on the nets as well.
Aviri is surprised by the size of the flotilla. "It's big," he says, breaking the silence that had formed between him and Jumble.
"It's grown," Jumble notes. "I 'magine the warrens're big too, if you could, you know.. see them." She brings the skiff to the net barge, tying it the side, and then hefting up the sack. "Lunch!" she calls.
Aviri admires the sheer amount of nets on the barge, but doesn't comment, feeling that "That's a lot of nets" would be a bit too inane.
"'Bout time, Jumble!" one of the older otters calls. He's got one white eye, so is probably Fimble's father. "Don't get out until I have the old man distracted," Jumble whispers to Aviri, figuring the Lapi will hear it just fine.
Aviri does, and shitfs the map slightly so it's well-hidden. He tries to look as uninteresting as a Lapi in a boat pulled up to an Oggton barge can look.
Jumble heads forward on the barge to pass out fish, but a moment later Fimble looks around the corner of the cabin and waves to Aviri. "You're back early," she whispers.
Aviri nods to her as he tries to see whether the 'old man' is sifficiently engrosed in getting food to move.
Jumble apparently has gotten everyone else inside the cabin to eat their lunch, leaving the Lapi and odd Akwavi alone. "Dad didn't notice the map missing.. but.. is my mom going to tell him? Why'd she leave the map with you?"
"Dunno," Aviri says, quickly getting out of the boat. "Figured you'd want it back sooner than later." He hands her the skin casing. "Finished the copy earlier than I expected."
"Your wrist looks all swollen," Fimble points out, as she takes the long map tube. "Want me to get you some leeches for it?"
Aviri looks at his wrist, flexing it. "It's just sore," he says. "Lot of map to copy. I'll be fine, thanks." He looks around. "Didn't think I'd run into your mother. Sorry if this gets you in trouble."
"I don't think she'll tell dad, since she didn't just bring back the map herself," Fimble says with a big toothy smile and fishy breath. "You can still come see me at the Boathouse if you want though! Thanks for keeping your promise, Aviri." The otter checks around the corner, and starts to sneak away.
"I'll keep that in mind," Aviri says. He looks around, again, at the barges and the pile of nets, and then gets back into the boat, assuming Jumble is going to be taking him back.
A few minutes later, the otter matron reappears, calling, "Don't laze about all day digestin', gotta clear these nets 'fore the evening haul comes in." There are some complains and grunts from within the cabin, but Jumble ignores them and returns to the skiff with the empty fish sack. She checks that the map is gone, and then unties the boat and pushes away from the barge. "I won't tell on you," she promises Aviri once they're clear of the barges.
Aviri looks at her and opens his mouth to speak, but for a moment, nothing comes out. Then, he says, "Thanks."
"A girl her age, s'bout time she started gettin' into trouble," Jumble says. "Why when I was her age.. ah.. never mind. Don't wanna scare you off, eh?"
Aviri laughs. "Sounds good. Thanks for the ride, too. Wasn't looking forward to the swim.
There's some commotion at the pier when the skiff pulls in. "I know your game!" Emmett is yelling. "Yer trying to lure her off with yer fancy stuff and then when she's all alone and homesick ye'll have yer way with her!" the otter claims.
"Oy, it's that time again," Jumble mumbles as she secures the boat.
The lapi looks at the activity on the pier with a kind of dread. "That time again?" he asks, his right ear twitching.
"Oh please," comes Jack's somewhat familiar voice, "I don't have to try to lure anyone off. People simply like me because I have actual culture ... while you just have the cultures that grow on your body. I'll let a small secret taught at University; women prefer men who don't smell like the business end of a privy."
"I smell MASCULINE," Emmett counts, using the most expensive word he knows. "Not like some dried up poodle."
"Jack and Emmett," Jumble notes, and rolls her eyes. "They'd be wrestlin' if they had less control I reckon'."
Sure enough, the out-of-town Akwavi is there, blatantly wearing pants and a shirt and a non-sat-upon-looking hat at Emmett.
"You smell like the odiferous subcutaneous excretions of an exposed bivalve," Jack counters, one-upping the otter.
Aviri holds his satchel closer and shrinks into himself a bit, obviously not wanting any part of the conflict.
"Well you.. you.." Emmett flounders, trying to think up a good comeback. "Ladies like my honest charm and wot, even the fancy ones," he claims, but sounds like he's pouting.
Jumble solves this by grabbing two fish from the barrel, and throwing one at each of the men. "Just kiss already, sheesh!" the woman says.
"It's wit, not wot. And it's obvious from these conversations that I can't have a battle of wits with you; you're an unarmed opponent," Jack remarks as doffs is hat; then promptly catches the fish in it.
"Ewww, Jumble, don't be disgustin'," Emmett claims as he fumbles with his fish. "Bad 'nuff he's snogging my twin sister!"
"He couldn't handle kissing me," Jack remarks while he bounces the fish a few times in his hat, then flips it and bounces it off his bicep ... and right into a nearby bucket.
"C'mon, yer gotta wash out yesterdays catch barrel," Jumble tells Emmett, and drags him off behind the shed by one ear. Must be a motherhood power.
The sudden stop in fighting makes Aviri, now alone in the boat, look up again.
"Well, I suppose it is true what they say about lapi," Jack remarks as he puts his hat back on, "You do tend to get around. I hope you're not learning any bad manners from the Oggtons."
Aviri looks surpsied. "I have manners?" he asks. "And I did this for that ... cup-thing you want. Had to get a map of the bottom of the swamp." Aviri tilts his head at Jack. "What are you doing here?"
"Research, of course. Also to remind Emmett he isn't king of the swamp," Jark remarks with a grin. "And you've actually been looking for sounding maps, have you? Any luck with that?"
"Found and returned," Aviri says, getting out of the boat. "Returned just now, actually. Why sound ... surprised that I've been looking for maps?"
"You don't seem the sort that actually wants to do things for others," Jack answers rather honestly. "No offense intended. You twitch a bit like a yiffle in a trap."
Aviri's ear twitches as if he does it on purpose. "I do things for others all the time," he says slowly, almost putting too much emphasis on the personal pronoun. "I just don't like doing things with others much."
"That's at least half the fun of doing it, though. I mean, in my line of work if i don't have some porter to show off to while uncovering the next greatest find of the century ... what would be the point?" Jack points out. "Someone else has to tell tales about you ... or everyone thinks you're full of it."
There's a whistle from the swamp, and another skiff is approaching the dock.
"People still tell tales about me," Aviri says, looking to the newcommer to see what's going on.
"Ah, but are they tales you want?" Jack inquires.
It's hard to tell at this distance (since most otters look alike at a distance) but it might be Trilup from the hight and build.
Aviri turns back. "Honestly don't care," he says. "So long as they don't bother while f--while I forage and study. You expecting someone?"
"Not at the moment, no. Now what was this about a map? do you still have it?" Jack asks.
Aviri looks at Jack like he's crazy. "No," he says slowly, "I said I'd just gotten back from returning it. How would I both have it and have returned it?"
"You could have copied it?" Jack suggests, and shrugs. "S'what any budding explorer does."
The new skiff doesn't dock - it's just driven right up onto shore. "Hey, Aviri!" Trilup says. "What were you doing at the barges? I came as soon as I heard.. oh, hello Mister Jack!"
Again, Jack gets the look from Aviri. "I did. Brought them with me." he indicates the satchel and turns to Trillup. "Hi, Trillup. I was returning the map."
"Ey there, short and squirmy. Still hanging out with the pufftails?" Jack inquires of the younger otter. The lapi then gets a look in return as Jack adds, "Well, going to let me see it, then?"
Aviri looks to the dock at his feet. "Got anywhere ... bigger and less likely to get wet?"
Trilup bites her lip at the mention of the map. So much for keeping their treasure hunt secret from Jack!
"My cabin, of course. But, it seems like this charming lass would prefer to have you to herself," Jack points out. "So, I can wait."
Aviri looks from Trilup to Jack and back. "You came here as soon as you heard I'd gone to the barges?" he asks. "Why ... how did you hear? Who said I'd gone?"
"Well.. it was more that a Lapi was in the boat with Jumble," Trilup explains. "And since Jumble is Fimble's mom, I just guessed it was you. And I can look at it at Jack's place!"
Aviri looks to Jack and says, "Then shall we?"
"If you like, sure," Jack says and salutes with his hat. "After you!"
"So, come in, make yourselves at home, and spread out the spoils of victory," Jack offers as he henters and manages to toss his hand so that it actually hooks and stays on a small rack.
Trilup takes Jack's offer and finds something cushiony to sit on, which also gives her a good view of the room's goodies. "Got any cake?" she asks her host.
Aviri enters and takes in the rooms slowly. Either he's not making himself at home, or he has a very odd home-making style that would indicate he's a stranger even in his own bed. He holds the satchel in both hands, as if about ready to set it down somewhere but unsure as to where to set it down. "Gonna need space," he says quietly. Louder, he says, "Is very large. Have ... you got a table? Big table?"
"Well, I have the floor," Jack offers by way of a large space for something to be spread out. "And as for cake, can't say that I do. I don't keep a lot of baked goods in here; tends to grow things."
Aviri's head shoots up at the mention of growing things, his ears flopping about. "Ah, mold," he says. He looks around for an open space on the floor. "Have to ask to keep careful around it; took me a while to make."
"You can leave secret messages with mold," Trilup claims, still looking a bit disappointed at the lack of cake. For her, that must be what being rich is all about: cake on demand.
"How long? And how much area does it cover?" Jack has to ask as he stays out of the way for the Lapi to work.
Aviri slips the satchel around his shoulder and holds his hands apart. "About that wide. Long as you, ish." He once again pulls off the satchel and finds a sizable portion of the floor. "Should do it," he says and sets the bag down. Exctracting the copy, he begins assembling the stack of pages into their proper places.
Meanwhile Jack whistles to himself and rocks on his feet. "Just how old of a map was the original?" he inquires.
"Five dozen years," Aviri says. "Give or take, I think." He continues his work, concentrating especially on the corners of each page where he'd placed his own orientation markings (though obviously not such that they'd obscure any of the original map, making some of them quite small and a few hardly anywhere near the corners).
"Well, should be useful, but I imagine the under silt has changed position over the years," Jack muses and rubs his chin. He also gingerly steps around to get a better view of the map.
Bit by bit, the contour map begins to take shape, showing the underwater landscape and noting the currents, murkiness and silt-depth, as well as codes for types of fish and plants.
Finally placing the last page, Aviri stands up and away from the map, once more massaging his wrist as if it's begun hurting by sheer proximity to the displayed map.
"Can you read it, Mr. Jack?" Trilup asks.
Jack clears his throat several times. "Well, yes. But are you sure you want me to? It does have a curse upon it," the otter claims.
"The map is cursed?" the otter yelps and moves to hide behind her chair.
Aviri gives Jack a look. "Were it so," he says, "that'd be the original. Nobody cursed this one."
"Well, sort of. It claims to be protected by the fabled black curse," Jack continues as he rubs his chin. "But they always claim that. The last one had a curse that basically read 'closed until further notice'." He shakes his head. "Now, for the map itself, right. Well, it was done over time judging by how the sounding depth is described. See right here?" he continues and taps part of the map, "It describes the depth in, ah, unflattering references to someone named Mable."
"Are there any landmarks?" Trilup asks. "Like the river mouths, or the old sunken town?"
Jack rubs behind his left ear. "Yes," he says as he circles the map a bit. "And hey, this part even references some spooky old tree in the middle of the swamp," he continues at taps one spot in particular. "I think you both know where that is."
"Yeah! That must be the Black Tree, where Swampy tried to kiss Aviri!" Trilup says. "We just need to find all the deepest parts near there.. and.. uh.. look?"
"Maybe. I think there is hidden meaning within the map," Jack admits and rubs his chin. "Or ... they were often drunk when writing it."
Aviri looks at Jack. "Are you saying I copied it poorly?
"No, I'm saying the original was poorly done," Jack comments as he circles the map again. "I'll need to compare parts of this with some old cartography tomes I have in a crate and see if I can come up with any similarities. There ought to be cue or two to the lair of ol' rottenlips based on that; I expect its taken up residence in an old crypt under the muck."
"Would that sort of thing be in old town maps then, from before the flood?" Trilup asks.
Aviri looks again at the map, but after so long of staring at it his eyes don't show any curiosity or wonder.
"Probably not. It would be older. I need to cross-check some of the stories of former land owners, barons, and snobby jerks," Jack admits. "And see what can be correlated between them, and this."
"Well, that's sort of a relief," Trilup tells Aviri. "Getting old town records is like catching sunshine in a bottle."
"An easy sixty percent of any archeologist is spent just reading old books. Then there's twenty percent digging and discovering ... and twenty percent drinking and talking about it," Jack claims.
Aviri says, "What makes you think I'm going to do this? I got a map. Towny-things are someone else's job." He looks off into space. "Should probably see if Parsley's been missing plants in my absense, anyway."
"When should we check back with you, Mr. Jack?" Trilup asks.
"And why you should do it, lad, is it's good for you. Universities like to see extra curricular activities," Jack claims. "If you want to be a real botanist and not a pretend one, you'll have to go to University."
"Hm, a couple days at most? I know where the books I want to cross check are buried," Jack claims, "And I should have a decent idea of where to start looking after that, I hope."
Aviri doens't respond to the jab, at least not verbally. "So, two days, then? Morning? Evening? Midnight? A day's a long time."
"Evening!" Trilup says. "We can go to the Boathouse afterwards then."
"Do you try to be obtuse, lad? You need a doctorate for that," Jack chides. "Two days, lunch time. Bring muffins. Boat later. You have to have something to impress the girls with, after all ... and nothing impresses them like a large ... treasure map."
Aviri looks between the map and Jack. "You'll be keeping the map?" he asks.
"Do you want me to be able to cross-reference it?" Jack counters.
"You can't leave it laying out like this," Trilup frets. "Gunther will see it!"
"Short and spastic? Maybe. Last time he nosed around he got a snoot full of spicy pepper," Jack comments and shrugs.
"Just don't ... damage it," Aviris says. "Spent a lot of time on it."
"Hey, it's me! What could go wrong?" Jask asks with a rather huge grin.
Aviri narrows his eyes. "I get the feeling maps burst into flame in your presence."
"Only when I have to fend off the undead, lad," Jack says, that grin never wavering. "Otherwise they're perfectly safe with me..."