“Is this a village of trees?” Jason wondered.
“No. This tree is encompassed by a deadly swamp. But we’re safe in here.”
“Why?”
“Do you see the puffballs growing on the walls?”
“Sure.”
“They create an atmosphere that keeps all creatures away. Except people. The atmosphere here blocks the memory of any who enter, while unveiling another portion of the mind.”
“So when I leave I’ll recall who I am,” Jason said, relieved and intrigued.
“And forget all that happened here. Were I to leave, I would lose my identity as you lost yours upon entering.” She sounded sad.
“Are you a prisoner here?”
“In a sense. If I leave, I surrender most of my memories of my mother and her mission. I would hardly know myself. I must stay to preserve what I know of the Word. It is the only way to stop a very evil man.”
“Do many people come seeking your information?” Jason asked.
“One man visited a few times when I was younger. Galloran. You know him, but you can’t remember. His mark is on your knife.”
“Where is your mother?”
“She died some time ago. It happened very suddenly.”
Jason glanced around, not seeing any remains. He decided not to ask. “Tell me about this Word.”
“I know only the sixth syllable, ‘puse.’ But I preserve another important piece of information. Galloran told Mother that the second syllable is the hardest to find. So, against the possibility that he would fail, he cheated to aid future seekers of the Word. The second syllable is tattooed just inside the shoulder blade of a man called Kimp. The letters are tiny, stacked one atop the other. Apparently, his body bears many tattoos.”
Jason stared at Corinne. “All you know is one syllable of some word and information about another syllable?”
“It’s a magic word,” she said defensively. “You will remember its importance when you leave. Trust me. I am certain you came here seeking this information, though it clearly seems absurd to you at present.”
Jason could see she was upset. This Word and her mission to preserve the sixth syllable obviously meant a lot to her. “I’m sure you’re right. Wait, once I leave, I’ll forget what you told me.”
She nodded.
“Then maybe you should write it down.”
“I’m not supposed to write any of this. Nor are you. It constitutes a heinous crime.”
Jason furrowed his brow. “But you said Galloran wrote a syllable.”
“And took a great risk. What he has done cannot be undone. If his action became known, all would be lost.”
“I’m sorry, this just doesn’t make any sense right now. What should I do?”
“Take a couple of puffballs with you. Their excretions will permit you to recollect our conversation. If all else fails, I’m sure you’ll return shortly. We’ll figure out a way to make this work. You’re the first visitor I’ve welcomed on my own. My mother was called the Pythoness, but that will mean nothing to you at present.”
“Okay,” Jason said, struggling to grasp the situation. “If I get outside and can’t figure out what to do, I’ll be back.”
Corinne plucked a pair of puffballs from a corner of the hollow. “Safe journey,” she said, handing them to Jason. He liked it when their hands touched.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” he asked hopefully.
Sudden tears shimmered on the surface of her green eyes. “I must remain.”
Jason felt sorry for her. “Good-bye, Corinne.”
On his way out through the gap he sensed his mind becoming muddled. He shook his head sharply. Surely he would not forget Corinne. He could overpower the mind-numbing effects of a bunch of mushrooms. He focused intently. Corinne. Puse. Second syllable tattooed on Kimp. Corinne. Puse. Second syllable tattooed on Kimp. He was almost through the gap. Corinne. Who was Corinne? Did he know her from school? Oh yes, he went to Kennedy! What a breakthrough! His name was Jason Walker!
He was outside the tree now. He was supposed to remember something, wasn’t he? Yes, he had been swallowed by a hippo and was now in a swamp with an amazing swordsman named Jasher. Everything returned in a rush. Why did he have these puffball mushrooms in his hands? His last memory was sitting hooded in a chair while a woman asked questions.
“How did it go?” Rachel asked.
“I have no idea,” Jason replied. “How long was I in there?”
“Pretty long,” Rachel said. “Like half an hour.”
He turned around, studying the gap in the tree. He could remember going inside. Then his memory skipped to sitting in a chair. The swamp was darker now. Had he fainted? Had he met the Pythoness? He had a foggy memory of a beautiful woman. He could not tell whether the beautiful face had been real or dreamed. Had the Pythoness cast a spell on him? His mind felt unclear.
“What’s with the mushrooms?” Rachel asked.
“I don’t know,” Jason said. “Are they a clue?”
“You have two,” Rachel noted. “Are we supposed to eat them?”
“I’m not sure,” Jason replied, sniffing one of the mushrooms. He felt unsteady. Strange, he didn’t recall actually exiting the tree, but now he stood outside, facing a strange girl. She was shorter than Corinne, and not bad-looking. What were these pretty girls doing in a swamp? “Who are you?”
“Are you kidding?” Rachel asked.
“I remember talking to Corinne inside the tree,” Jason said, sniffing the mushrooms again. He squeezed one gently, and dusty spores the color of brown mustard smoked out of the hole in a little cloud. “These mushrooms let me remember her, but they block out everything else. Apparently we’re searching for a word?”
“Yes,” Rachel said eagerly.
“The sixth syllable is ‘puse.’ Does that make sense?”
“Absolutely. Anything else?”
He explained about the second syllable being tattooed on Kimp’s back.
“Do you know where we can find this man?” Rachel asked.
“Corinne didn’t explain,” he said. “Should I ask her?”
“In a minute,” Rachel said. “Tell me more about how these mushrooms work.”
Jason explained the ability of the mushrooms to suppress memories and keep swamp animals away from the tree.
“Useful information,” Rachel said. “Think Corinne would let us sleep in her tree tonight? It would be much safer than out in the swamp. This place is horrible at night.”