Tourmaline was not, by most standards, an important part of the gnome burrow. She knew many people would tell her differently, especially her father who was technically mentoring her through her apprenticeship, but in her mind the gnome responsible for “moving debris and dirt out of the tunnel” was not critical to the burrow’s continued function. Even when she finally learned enough to assist in finishing the walls and floors of the tunnels of their home, there would always be someone capable of doing her job, taking her place. She thought it only natural, then, that she saw far more value in her hobbies than in her work. Much to her father’s dismay, no amount of badgering or griping could convince her otherwise, leaving the old gnome no option but to gnash his teeth and grumble when she started talking about alchemy.
It was only thanks to her mother she got away with it at all, really. Where her father would yell and lecture, her mother just tutted and fluttered her fingers as if to say she would handle her husband, so Tourmaline should just go and do what she wanted to. In the kitchen, packing a lunch for herself and Jet so they could discuss his late night expedition and review the materials he acquired, she suspected another argument was forthcoming if her father caught her before she left. She would have liked to go with Jet, however if her father caught her sneaking outside the burrow at night he’d lock her in her room for the next decade. She was barely allowed to leave the burrow during the day and she knew even that much worried her parents to death.
Humming to herself, Tourmaline grabbed all the necessary makings for sandwiches, as well as some of the roast leftover from last night’s meal. She secured her food in her basket, wrapped in cloth or crammed into jars as needed, before realizing she’d forgotten something critically important. Cheese. Grabbing a decently sized wedge from her family’s, quite extravagant, stockpile, she turned back to her picnic basket only to discover her mother standing directly behind her.
Tourmaline let out a yelp and threw the cheese at her mother in shock. Thankfully Beryl fully expected her reaction, even seeming to enjoy it as her arm snapped out and caught the cheese mid-air, before effortlessly tossing it into Tourmaline’s basket.
“What do you think yer doing, sneaking up on me like that!” Tourmaline tried to sound put off, but couldn’t help but smile indulgently at her mother.
“I was thinking my little girl was up to some mischief again and I ought to make sure she was properly provisioned for it.” Beryl replied, her aquamarine eyes sparkling. She reached past Tourmaline to grab a jar of jam and bread before continuing. “I’m going to have to put up with your father’s grumbling all day today, aren’t I?”
“I’m sorry Mom, but I do appreciate your noble sacrifice in the name of science and progress.” Tourmaline said, not looking the least bit apologetic as she moved aside to allow her mother access to the counter where Beryl began to slather bread with the sweet red slime. Tourmaline grimaced as she watched. She couldn’t stand the overly sugary stuff herself.
“The things I do for you lovebirds.” Beryl said with a flick of her butter knife, sending a streak of strawberry jam across Tourmaline’s cheek, who attempted to both wipe herself clean and protest her mother’s statement at the same time.
“It’s not at all like that Mom! Jet and I are just two alchemists on the cutting edge of science! We’re comrades more than anything.” She finished her objections about the same time she got the last of the jam off of her face. Tourmaline scowled, wetting a kitchen towel down for one last wipe to make sure she was spotless. She couldn’t stand the stickiness of dried sweets, and she’d be out and about for a while today. Her mother just disbelievingly sighed at her.
“Ah yes, science. It makes all of you young folk act up. Why, I heard Cinnabar and Pyrite snuck into the back tunnels to do some science together the other week. Mayhaps, I think, of the biological kind”
“That’s not how it is, not in the least!” Tourmaline repeated with a squeak as her mother sauntered away, tittering. Tourmaline felt her face warm and flush red, prompting her to take a moment and breath. Her mother’s well targeted teasing aside, Tourmaline knew she had it easy. Her friends -other than Jet, that is- were already talking about the pressure to find a partner and settle down, to become a true part of the community. While some of them had already started to court each other, many were hesitant, especially considering the fact they’d grown up knowing every other gnome their age in the warren. They knew all the dramas and all the history in such a small community, which meant a lot of gnomes waited until the Grand Moot and tried to find potential romantic interests there. Tourmaline didn’t find either camp appealing. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to settle down. She couldn’t imagine herself with any of the gnomes she knew, and betting on a complete stranger didn’t seem much better. As far as Tourmaline could tell, if she was going to marry it was a ways off yet.
With so many obstacles to a successful romantic life, Tourmaline was quietly happy her parents chose to take issue with her pursuit of alchemy rather than their lack of a grandchild. They were content to let her approach it at her own rate, though she knew her mother would haunt her if she wound up an old biddy alone in her dusty old quarters. Laughing softly to herself, she picked up her basket and left the kitchen. From the kitchen door to the front entrance of the house was only a few paces and Tourmaline hoped with her mother distracting him, her father wouldn’t even notice until she was long gone. Treading as softly as she could down the entryway, she was only a pace or two from the door when her father’s voice rang out.
“If you think your mother can distract me with jam and bread, you’ve got another thing coming, little miss!” He roared. Tourmaline’s shoulders slumped and she turned to face him, suppressing a giggle and a smile as she saw him. Her father, Bazzite, was short and stocky even by gnomish standards. Years of moving about stone and earth had given him thick muscles, though it did nothing to change the fact he had to look up to talk to just about anyone. Even still, he would have cut an imposing figure standing at the end of the hall, arms crossed and foot tapping against the floor, if not for a few details that belied his composure and pointed to a hasty interception of his daughter. Firstly, he had clearly lit the candle he was holding in haste, as it was standing lopsided on its plate, dripping haphazardly over his crossed arm and onto the floor. In his other hand a half-eaten slice of bread slathered with jam. Occasionally he would uncross his arms as he either burned himself on the melting wax or took another bite of bread, and at some point in his haste he had managed to get a stripe of jam across the bridge of his nose. This all resulted in him cutting the least stern figure Tourmaline could possibly think of, and evidently her mother felt the same as she stood behind him covering her mouth to stifle her giggles while waving an apology at Tourmaline.
“Sorry Dad, I thought I’d be gone before you noticed.” She snickered.
“At least try to apologize correctly.” He sighed back with a put upon look on his face. “I wish you wouldn’t sneak around behind my back. The both of you.” At the end he looked over his shoulder at his wife, and both Beryl and Tourmaline sobered quickly.
“Well…” She began hesitantly. “It’s just, neither of us are going to change our minds on it. So I wanted to avoid the argument.”
“This is exactly why I was worried about you hanging out with that boy. Sneaking out, not telling us where you’re going. It’s disrespectful, and dangerous!” He was getting louder at this point, clearly irate.
“We’re not even leaving the burrow! I’m going straight to his house, and then to the workshop!” Tourmaline was beginning to yell back. Her mother was trying to get between the two of them, raising her hands to try and calm them. When they got into it, however, the whole world fell away.
“He’s already got you going behind our back, how long before you start leaving the burrow with him on his little scavenging missions?”
“He didn’t make me sneak out, you did! Because every time I try to do what I want to do, you make it a fight. What do you have against Jet? Against progress? Against alchemy!?”
Ah there is it. She thought. It’s gone and become a fight.
“His “alchemy” is dangerous! Progress is slow, steady, and safe. This haphazard experimentation is going to get him killed, just like his father! I just don’t want you to go down with him.” Her father roared, panting to get back his breath in the silence afterwards.
Tourmaline rocked back on her feet, stunned by this revelation. She didn’t know all the details of Jet’s father’s death, and even if it was the result of some alchemical accident, it didn’t give him a right to distrust her with her own agency and safety. It did, unfortunately, make his worry far more understandable to Tourmaline. Her mother was looking between the two worriedly, uncertain about this new ground they were treading. Beryl came from another burrow, and evidently wasn’t familiar with this bit of her new home’s history. Meanwhile her father was looking down and away, perhaps ashamed at himself for blowing up on her and spilling secrets he wasn’t meant to share. She was in the midst of formulating a response when a knock at the door cut her off. Neither her nor her father were in any condition to entertain guests, so her mother moved past them to open the door, giving Tourmaline a little nudge with her hips, pushing her back enough to open it. Tourmaline shuffled back and came to a stop beside her father, neither looking at each other yet. Instead both strained to hear the conversation at the door, yearning for a distraction.
“Yes? Oh, hello!” Beryl said in a friendly tone. Whoever was out there was speaking too softly for either to hear. Tourmaline could barely discern it was a feminine voice, forced to put together the conversation from the half she could here.
“Yes, Tourmaline is here… No Jet hasn’t been by… Okay, okay hold on, why don’t you just come in and ask her yourself?” Tourmaline perked up at the mention of her name, concerned by the note of worry she heard in her mother’s voice. Beryl stepped out of the doorway and let in a woman Tourmaline knew quite well. Diamond was Jet’s mother, and Tourmaline had known her since her early childhood, when she met Jet at school. Normally graceful and reserved with an impassive demeanor, today Diamond was looking stressed and frazzled, hair awry and eyes darting around the room as though searching for something. A pained look flashed across Bazzite’s face, and Tourmaline suspected he was worried Diamond had heard him mention Jet’s father. If she had she made no mention of it, locking eyes with Tourmaline instead.
“Hello Lina, Bazz. I’m sorry to bother you so early, but have either of you seen Jet?” She attempted to hide it, but a note of panic wormed its way into her question. Tourmaline looked to her father and mother in concern, and shook her head before she spoke.
“No, I’m sorry. I was just going to meet up with him actually. He isn’t home then?” She asked, and Diamond shook her head. “Well, have you been by our workshop? Sometimes he gets so excited to start I have to meet him there.”
“I checked there and it looked like he hadn’t been by yet. Even worse” She continued, “His backpack is still missing! I’m worried he never came back last night.”
The poor gnome matron’s voice became tremulous as tears gathered in her eyes. Tourmaline’s father stepped forwards, and for a brief moment Tourmaline was worried she was going to see a smug expression on his face as his thoughts said ‘I told you so!’ To her relief, and immediate guilt, he instead put his hand on Diamond’s shoulder and attempted to reassure her.
“It’s okay, I’m sure he didn’t get too far from the burrow. Tourmaline should be able to tell us how to get there, right?” He said as he looked to his daughter for confirmation. Tourmaline swallowed her shame at thinking so poorly of her father, and shook her head.
“He told me what it was he was going to look at but I’m not sure where. He was going to look at a mushroom glade in the forest nearby.”
Tourmaline wracked her mind for any further details as Diamond’s expression crumbled into something despondent and pained, her only lead drying up right in front of her.
“Oh! Oh yes, he said he got his information from that traveling trader! The myconid one? He should still be in the square!” Tourmaline said excitedly. Diamond made as if she was going to rush out the door, but Bazzite’s grip on her shoulder tightened.
“Hold on a second, we’ll go with you.” Not waiting to hear any argument, he immediately passed by her on his way to the door and grabbed his boots off of the rack of shoes. He did the same for Tourmaline and Beryl, gently tossing them their shoes. All three pulled them on quickly as Diamond danced from toe to toe, her nerves growing by the minute. As soon as they stood she was out the door, nearly running down the hallway ahead of them. Tourmaline’s family hastened to keep up, the patter of the group’s rapid footsteps echoing through the still empty halls. It would be a bit longer yet before most of the other gnomes woke and began their days, though the early hour didn’t stop them from running into – sometimes almost literally – the few gnomes who were up and moving about. From the narrow residential tunnels the group made their way into the wider thoroughfares reserved for businesses and government buildings. Here the stonework of the tunnels became more ornate, perfectly fitted stone slotted together seamlessly beneath their feet, gorgeous reliefs depicting gnomish legends decorating the walls and ceiling. The avenue the group was traveling down was one of eight spreading out from the center of the burrow, making the plaza they approached more of a town octagon than town square.
After some time they came to the town square, which featured immense sculptures of legendary gnomes and, of course, the fairy nobility who ruled over all creatures in the Wylde. Spiral staircases sat at four equidistant points from the center, wrought iron banisters spinning up into a level above, and into the sub-level below. The group took the nearest stairways, shocking an elderly gnome gentleman as he exited onto the main floor. Tourmaline, bringing up the rear of the group, apologized and steadied him before taking the stairs two at a time to catch up to her family on the floor below. The lower shopping arcade was dense with traders and stalls, an amazing display of the varieties of magical creatures you could find in the Wylde, albeit only those among gnomish sizes. Pixies, another form of earth spirit, were the second most common pieces behind the gnomes themselves, their slender frames and pale skin a sharp contrast to gnomes, who were generally stockier and stronger. Bluecaps and coblynau were the next most common, banding together into groups of their own to take strength in numbers, though the pixies still outnumbered them by a significant degree. Interspersed between those three species were isolated examples of even more foreign and esoteric species Tourmaline couldn’t begin to name. She homed in on her family, somehow far ahead of her and already at the stall of the myconid trader.
Myconids were an interesting breed, each one’s shape and size dependent not only on the type of mushroom it grew from, but also the personality of the individual myconid. While most had a mouth to intake “food,” the remaining features were entirely extraneous, grown or carved into the body of the mushroom as a matter of form over function. As far as Tourmaline knew it didn’t actually hurt them, but the practice gave many people she knew mixed feelings. Coupled with their haunting, raspy voices myconids had developed a bad reputation among those who were the type to let their first impressions dictate their behavior. This myconid must have been at the mercantile business for a while, as seemed completely unruffled by the gnomes all but yelling at him unintelligibly. It waited until the party had exhausted themselves and were trying to catch their breath before it spoke.
“Hm,” It droned, “What seems to be the issue? You don’t seem to have complaints about my products, but what else would you need with a merchant?” The mushroom creature spoke slowly, drawing a protective arm over its merchandise which consisted mostly of various edible fungi. Before anyone could catch their breath and yell at the poor trader more, Tourmaline cut in.
“Yes, I’m so sorry to bother you but, you see, my friend has gone missing and we’re hoping you can help us find him.” She blurted. The myconid tilted its head in confusion, sending a small dusting of rusty red spores into the air.
“I’m not a tracker or a guide, so I don’t know how I can help. But if you say that I can, then I will.” The myconid’s voice remained low and slow as it droned, but Tourmaline vaguely felt a sense of energy and determination emanating from the being.
“Actually, my friend came by here a couple of days ago. You directed him to a nearby mushroom glade for alchemical reagents?”
“Oh yes, the swarthy gnomeling!” It chirruped back. “Has he not returned?”
His question was evidently an afterthought, for Tourmaline hadn’t yet responded before the myconid was bringing forth some sort of parchment and a charcoal pencil. With quick movements, almost unnatural given the sedentary lives most fungus lived, the myconid sketched out a rough map of the area around the burrow, and various landmarks on the way to the glad. Below the illustration it seemed to write more detailed directions. Looking over it once more to be sure it was accurate, the mushroom seemed to be satisfied, handing the parchment to Bazzite.
“If you need me to show you the way, I’d be happy to show you personally.” It said as it puffed itself up confidently.
“Thank you so much, but that shouldn’t be necessary! C’mon Dad, let’s go find him!” Tourmaline said excitedly, grabbing her father by his forearm. She rushed away only to be yanked to a stop by his unmoving form. Looking back she saw a look on his face of deep consideration.
“No, Tourmaline I want you to wait here with your mother and Diamond. I’m going to inform the council and get the city guard to come out there with me.” He said firmly. Tourmaline went to argue, but he held his hand up to forestall her.
“Stop. This isn’t about you adventuring or breaking tradition. We don’t know what happened to Jet, and if he’s in trouble or danger I want to have people there who can help. And I certainly don’t want to put my family in danger.” He said with a wan smile. Diamond balled her hands in frustration before speaking up.
“I have to go and make sure he’s okay. Say whatever you want but if I have to I’ll just sneak out right behind you.” Diamond stated defiantly. Bazzite looked aggrieved for a moment before a thoughtful look crossed his face.
“Alright, I can understand that.” He said kindly before looking at his wife. “Beryl, you take Tourmaline home and make sure she stays there. We can’t afford to waste anymore time here.”
Before Tourmaline could interject he and Diamond were dashing away. Her mother gripped her shoulder far more tightly than was comfortable, and was the only thing stopping her from pursuing them. Her mother refused to meet her gaze as she escorted Tourmaline back to their home and for her part Tourmaline didn’t give her mother any grief. Tourmaline understood why her father didn’t want her to go and she knew she wasn’t likely to be of much help. Even knowing her own helplessness, part of her wanted to struggle out of her mother’s vice-like grip.
They arrived home in silence, her mother immediately going about cleaning the house, pulling Tourmaline along in her wake. To tidy up was always Beryl’s response to stress, and this was perhaps the most furiously her daughter had ever seen her clean.It was hours before they finished the various chores Beryl managed to cook up around the house. Beryl started dinner next and cooking was one of the few things she refused to share with anyone, finding it apparently bothersome to work around others in the kitchen. Kicked to the curb, Tourmaline had to admit that filling one’s time with menial labor was better than mulling over the situation as she had little to do but sit on the sofa and watch the front door. Her only relief was when her mother asked her to set the table, spots for each of them and her father, plus additional spots for Jet and Diamond.
The dinner was made, a soup of some kind, and cooled with no change in the tense atmosphere of their home, nor any news. Every time footsteps could be heard in the hall outside Tourmaline and her mother perked up, looking expectantly at their door. Without fail the footsteps passed into the distance, leaving them crestfallen and more worried than before. Beryl tried to serve a bowl to Tourmaline, however it remained untouched, neither of them up to eating. Leaving the pot on the stove, Beryl moved out into the living room to sit with Tourmaline, clasping their hands together. Just as the silence and pressure got to be too much and Beryl opened her mouth to speak, the door to their home burst open. Tourmaline and Beryl both shot out of their seats and rushed to the entryway to see Bazzite standing just inside, dripping wet. Kicking off his shoes and wiping the water out of his eyes he looked at his family with somber eyes.
“Did you find him?” Beryl asked hopefully.
“No. By the time we got there it had started to rain, but it was clear some big folk had camped there.” He said as he pulled off his shirt which was wet clean through. “There was no sign of Jet though.”
“Mortals!? What were they doing in the Wylde? What about Diamond, is she okay?” Beryl said worriedly, questions falling from her mouth in a babble, speaking the words as fast as she could formulate them.
“Diamond is distraught, she’s staying with a friend of hers for now. As for the mortals, who knows what they were doing there originally but it seems likely to me that they wound up taking Jet.”
“Well what are we going to do now? Are we going to follow the humans?” Tourmaline interjected.
“There’s not much more we can do.” Bazzite said sadly.
“Surely we could go to the Queen! There’s rules against mortals coming into our forest and doing whatever they want.” Tourmaline argued.
“Sure, if we had proof the mortals even did anything. There’s no proof they even saw Jet, let alone harmed him. Even if they did take him, we don’t know for sure he didn’t go voluntarily. The Queen wouldn’t be happy if we went to her with what we had now.”
“So we’re just going to give up on him?” Tourmaline was crying now, tears clawing their way out of her eyes and down her face even as she tried to fight them.
“There’s even the possibility the humans had nothing to do with it, perhaps he was taken by one of the many threats in the Wylde. We have no idea where to start searching for him.” Bazzite met her gaze with stern conviction in his eyes, making sure he had her attention before continuing. “This is the very reason I didn’t want you out adventuring like him in the first place.”
Tourmaline was stunned for a moment by what her father said. Beryl spoke, trying to stop the argument she knew was coming. Her words were lost as Tourmaline vented her stress and anger at her father.
“I can’t believe you’d turn this into an opportunity to lecture me!” She shouted. “I didn’t think you were so coldhearted.”
“That’s not what-” Bazzite tried to explain himself but Tourmaline was having none of it. In a shocking display she shoved her father aside and stormed out of her home. Her parents were taken aback by her behavior, her mother descending into quiet sobs in the silence that followed. Bazzite made no move to follow her, knowing he had gone too far. He simply guided his wife to their bedroom to allow her to rest. He told himself he would have the chance to explain himself to Tourmaline when she cooled off and returned.
