Atilan

     /loo-TAH-ree/

      noun

     1. A species native to Lutari Island. When Roxton Colchester II’s ship ran aground on Lutari Island and he initiated first contact with the species, it is said that he pointed at a Lutari and asked, “What are you?” She replied, “luut’ta rii.” It wasn’t until later that they learned that the Lutari was equally confused — “luut’ta rii” means “What are you?”

     2. The name of an island that wanders randomly across the face of Neopia. Contact with Lutari Island was lost in Y11 and has yet to be re-established.

      —Standard Neopian Dictionary

     ———

     It seemed like lecture halls just kept getting crustier. Roxton couldn’t slip in unnoticed the way he used to for the way the door squeaked, and the way the stairs squeaked, and the way the brace on his knee squeaked. People certainly noticed him — but they didn’t notice Roxton Colchester III. They just noticed someone who showed up to Dr. Shen’s lecture late. It was less comforting than it could’ve been.

     Not everyone failed to recognize him. When the lecture ended, the blue Kougra at the podium broke into a wide grin.

     “Roxton!” said Dr. Zho Di Shen — better known as Jordie.

     “Morning, kid,” said Roxton, going for a handshake. What he got instead was a hug that lifted him off the ground. “You, er, got tall!”

     Jordie eventually decided to put him down. In between bits of catching up, Roxton managed to coax out the job offer.

     “I want to re-establish contact with Lutari Island.”

     “Uh-huh,” said Roxton. “I believe in you, but a lot of people have tried that.”

     “I mean, I’m not a cartographer, but someone you worked with before got in touch with me and she told me to get in touch with you — Lillian Fairweather?”

     Roxton raised an eyebrow. “From the Lost Isle expedition?”

     “Yeah. Apparently she learned a lot about tracking down moving islands since then. She thought she had a lock on the Lost Isle, but the weather patterns around it are making her think it’s something else. She figured if anyone was up for it, it would be you.”

     Roxton frowned. Lillian was smart — she knew that if she herself told him that she was tracking Lutari Island, he wouldn’t have answered. Involving Jordie was just a low blow.

     “Right,” he said.

     ———

     “This reminds me of a joke my father told me,” Lillian said over dinner. They were deep into the voyage to the Lost Isle at that point, and they’d both long since given up on using the table. The boat (ship) kept rocking so violently that trying to set their plates down would spell doom.

     Roxton nodded. He was keeping his eyes fixed on her — partly because he just liked looking at her, but also because he was pretty sure the eggs on his plate had Petpetpets in them and he’d feel better about it if he didn’t look. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

     “Lur auyiltn’t rii t’tiat pupu P’Tatua?”

     “You speak Lutari?”

     “Yes, I studied it for my linguistics degree! Anyway — pakuyaa tuar’ta akkaallant luuta.”

     “Lillian, I don’t speak Lutari. I grew up in Neovia. My name literally has ‘the Third’ in it.”

     “Oh — I’m sorry, I just assumed — not because you’re a Lutari, but because of your father. His name was on half of my textbooks.”

     Roxton regarded the eggs, suddenly very interested in Petpetpets. “He didn’t learn it by staying in Neovia.”

     Lillian had her hands over her mouth now. Oh, no, he never knew what to do when women got emotional. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

     “Well, I’m not,” he said, trying to make things un-serious again. “That’s the cost of doing business as an adventurer — you adventure, and you adventure, and one day you die, and hopefully at some point in between you get your name put on something.”

     “I almost want to turn this ship around and give him a piece of my mind.”

     “Good luck with that,” Roxton snorted. “Anyway, what’s the joke again?”

     Lillian sighed, clearly still angry, but said, “Why shouldn’t you trust baby Pteris? Because they’re eggsellent liars.”

     “Is it that bad in Lutari, too?”

     “Oh, it’s terrible.”

     “Then I’m not missing out.”

     ———

     Roxton lost his father two years later. When you lose your father, you have to ask a lot of difficult questions. Questions like, “What do you mean, you lost the island?” and “What? No, I’m not going to go find him. Don’t ask me that.”

     ———

     “You’re a scumbag,” Roxton said.

     Lillian looked up from a paper absolutely disgusting with red ink. There were two corkboards in her office, each very different from the other. One was tidy, calm, and outlined her class schedule and office hours. The other was a mess of maps.

     “Fair, but why?”

     “You know why. I don’t want to find my father.”

     Lillian set the paper down. “This isn’t about you, it’s about science.”

     “Yes, yes, and I’m sure you just reached out to me because I happened to be the best man for the job.”

     Roxton gestured with both hands at the brace around his knee, at the hair around his temples that was starting to turn grey.

     “You called me because of my personal baggage. Admit it.”

     “Fine. It’s a little because of your personal baggage. But is it really that hard to believe I called you because you’re a man I trust? A man who’s already proven himself capable of discovering a whole new land?” she said, a sour note creeping into her voice.

     “May I remind you that the last time we set out together, it didn’t go that well?”

     “First of all, people wrote theses on that fruit.”

     (Roxton rolled his eyes.)

     “Second, we were exploring an uncharted island. The island we’re seeking now is very charted, as you’re well aware,” Lillian said pointedly. “Besides, anyone else confronted with a building-sized Moach would’ve just died.”

     “That was a long time ago. I turned forty this year.”

     Lillian sighed and rubbed her temples. “What about—”

     “I know you want to ask a question that you think would be rude, so I’m going to tell you to just ask it.”

     “And that question is?”

     Was she really going to make him say it?

     “Do I want to find Lutari Island because I’m a Lutari?”

     “...”

     “...”

     “Well, do you?”

     Roxton groaned in irritation.

     “I was one of the first Lutari to get adopted off the island. I spent most of my life trying not to bring attention to my species. You’re a fantastic woman, and I’m sorry, but there’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”

     “I’ll give you a million Neopoints.”

     “I’ve changed my mind.”

     ———

     “What are you supposed to be?”

     The little Lutari puffed out his chest and smiled broadly. It was the first year he was allowed to trick-or-treat on his own and he had put together his own costume. “I’m an adventurer!”

     The older kid at the door cocked her head, Aisha ears turning in annoyance. “Yeah, but what are you? Some kinda messed-up Kyrii?”

     “I’m a Lutari.”

     “A what?

     “My papa discovered them! They live on an island and they eat fruit and—”

     “Whatever,” the kid muttered, closing the door.

     “...You forgot to give me candy,” Roxton protested, but she did not open the door again.

     Halloween was essentially a national holiday in the Haunted Woods, even in Neovia. Still, Roxton was brave enough to venture past the edge of town and into the Woods proper. Winding roads and twisted trees kept him alert, but not paralyzed with fear. Being paralyzed never helped anyone. He was kind of hoping that something would jump out at him so he could test out his papa’s hunting knife.

     He knocked on another door. An older couple answered.

     “Trick or treat!”

     “Oh, aren’t you adorable!”

     “Thank—”

     “Albert!” shouted the old Korbat into her house. “Come look at the cute little Lutari!”

     Roxton’s smile wavered as the old Korbat’s husband turned up.

     “Look what we have here,” he said. “What are you, young man?”

     “I’m an adventurer.”

     “Your Neopian is very good!”

     “...Thank you.”

     Roxton understood people’s reactions. Most of them had never seen a Lutari before. Roxton had never seen a Lutari except in his father’s books and the mirror.

     He thought he wasn’t “messed-up.” Well, maybe a little bit, but he was messed up because once, he was a little baby with such a severe case of NeoPox that nobody thought he’d live, or at the very least if he’d live he’d be sickly forever, and under his fur, he still had scars from it. He was also messed up because now he was a little boy who got hurt a lot climbing on things and falling off of them and getting in fights and being in places he wasn’t supposed to be.

     But people’s reactions made him feel—

     Roxton suddenly decided that trick-or-treating was for suckers and all the cool kids went to the Fairground.

     He had a few Neopoints, but not enough to play anything. Instead, Roxton poked around, working through his candy, watching other people play, and quickly slipping away if someone stared at him for too long.

     It was nice for a while. Then he wandered into the freak show.

     Well, they called it a “curiosity exhibition,” but being nice about it didn’t change that there were people who swallowed swords, and people with many tattoos, and ghosts, and ghouls, and mutants and stuff. And because Roxton was a kid, he didn’t feel weird about it at first. It was still nice.

     And then he wandered into the ring of tents.

     He really should’ve guessed what was in there, even though there were so many people by the sign that he couldn’t see it. There was smoke coming out of a hole in the top, and a strange spicy smell, and neon-coloured feathers decorated everything.

     The sign said “Lutaritown.”

     ———

     /YOU-moo-loo/

     “Family.” Even prior to Lutari Island opening for tourism, this word was used as a call by confused parents and lost children alike, as Lutari are typically nocturnal and the island is dense with brush.

     (The children are usually fine; Lutari learn to fend for themselves from a young age.)

     If you wish to travel to Lutari Island with children, consider teaching them this word in case they get lost.

      —A Visitor’s Guide to Lutari

     ———

     Roxton ducked into the flap of the canvas tent, thinking himself very clever to have dodged the toll to get inside, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what experience he’d just stolen.

     It was dark and smelled like grease. He heard drums that he could feel in his bones. The drumming was almost calming, like a heartbeat. There was some suggestion of a queue, but it wasn’t being followed very well, not the least of which by whoever was hosting the event, the owners of a pair of heavily accented voices that kept calling people up, seemingly at random.

     “Yes, yes, you there, spin!” The tell-tale clicking of a wheel.

     Roxton muscled through the crowd to find something that wouldn’t cost him money.

     “Tuut kut’a upiit ti laupa, lat wum ki nakat.”

     “You, boy!” A taloned hand caught Roxton’s shirt. “Wanna spin?”

     “I don’t have any—”

     Roxton looked at the hosts for the first time — a pair of furry, broad-flippered individuals with long, wide tails. They wore little other than paint and appeared almost as startled as Roxton.

     “...Money.”

     One of the Lutari, the woman, turned to the other. “Wa’a nit ina yo yita, tukut?”

     “Ni, liik ut wum, wa tiaan’t k’nil luut la’ta aurun. Miat wupa paan atilan,” said the man.

     The woman snarled so suddenly it made Roxton jump: “Yikkun ataulata!”

     “Taluka. U’ll wuntla ut,” the man said.

     The woman scowled and took his place hosting the wheel.

     The Lutari man turned back to Roxton. “You lost, atilan? Where your persons at?”

     “Persons?” Roxton said. “What?”

     The Lutari cocked his head. “Your yumulu? Like mama, papa?”

     “I’m alone. I won’t bother anybody, I just—”

     “Hey!”

     A very large and very angry Tonu had burst in through the tent flap.

     “Kid! Pay for a ticket or get out!”

     The Lutari grabbed Roxton’s hand and started running.

     Roxton thought he was a fast runner, but he had nothing on the Lutari, who threw him onto his back, dropped to all fours, and raced him through the labyrinth of tents, carts, and street performers, right to the edge of the Fairground.

     “Ki ki ki!

      Keep up!”

     “What about your job?!” Roxton shouted.

     “Yikk mu tlip!” said the Lutari, who momentarily seemed to forget he was talking to an outsider, who for a second there just had another Lutari next to him.

     ———

     Rourke had retired by now, because of course he had, but the Primella II had been left to a certain Captain Scrap.

     “He’d wanted to throw me overboard so bad,” he mused as they pulled away from the harbor, “but after I managed to help him piece the ship back together, he decided to keep me around, and, well, here we are. Funny how things change.”

     Roxton was sitting on a crate, rubbing his braced knee. Lillian and Jordie were having an animated conversation by the railing. Jordie was taller than her, too, and with her hair done up differently, Roxton could see that there was gray by her temples too.

     “Yeah,” he said. “Funny.”

     When night came and they ate dinner, Jordie threatened to read Shenkuuvian poetry.

     “Please don’t,” said everyone but Roxton.

     “It’s funny, I promise. In Neopian, it’s called ‘Kougra-Eating Poet in the Stone Den.’ I’ll now read it in the original Middle Shenkuuvian.”

     Everyone groaned except Roxton. Jordie cleared his throat.

     “Shishi shishi ‘Shi Shi,’ shi shi, shi shi shi shi.”

     “Oh,” Lillian snickered.

     “There it is,” said Roxton.

     “Shi shishi shi shi shi shi.”

     “Oh, he’s still going.”

     “Shi shi, shi shi shi shi shi…”

     Scrap leaned towards Roxton and whispered, “What’s going on?”

     “Jordie’s dialect of Shenkuuvian is tonal. The poem makes perfect sense to him. I think.”

     “...Are you sure he’s not just messing with us?”

     Roxton shrugged. “Such are the perils of the language barrier.”

     ———

     It is a reality of magic that it is not capable of healing everything. Some wounds can be soothed, but never erased.

      Thus said the Healing Springs faerie — although Roxton wasn’t entirely convinced she didn’t just say that because she was still mad about him stealing one of her pumps.

     In any case, he woke up in the middle of the night at a pain level of “This woke me up, and if it gets any worse it’s going to knock me back out.”

     If he tried to get up properly, he was going to fall over, so he had to get to his bag on all fours. He uncorked the healing potion and downed it. It tasted like trying to eat a eucalyptus tree.

     When he got back into his bunk, the pain had calmed to something more like pins and needles.

     Cost of doing business.

     This would let him catch a few hours of sleep before they sailed into the storm.

To be continued…