by Allan Cole
On the outside I was Emilie, delicate as a meadow flower. I had Emilie's innocent eyes. Her pearly milk teeth. Her child's translucent skin. But inside I was Rali Antero. With a false hand and single eye and cauterized soul.
But the Lyre Bird saw only Emilie when she said, "I've been waiting to meet you for such a long time, dear."
She posed before me, white gown dazzling in the sun. She had a tiara of daisies woven through her golden hair, and daisy bracelets encircled her slender wrists. Her sun-kissed skin was misted with the delicate aroma of lemony musk.
But I remembered the seductress and saw how the gown flowed about her lush figure, caressing every soft hill and hollow. I remembered her attempt at sorcerous seduction. Hot hands and lips bruising my body while I waited for my chance to kill her.
And here I was with Novari once again.
Waiting.
I looked about with childlike curiosity. Moments before I'd been in the center of a winter storm, but here in the villa of my birth, magic had banished all of winter's cares.
The garden was springtime warm and the flowers were nodding under a happy sun. Insects clung to their blossoms, sipping the nectar inside. Songbirds flitted among the trees, while an old gray cat crouched under mint leaves waiting to pounce. It had one eye, I noted, like my Rali self.
Then Novari said sharply: "Well, Emilie. What do you have to say for yourself?"
I ducked my head, pulling the blue-hooded cloak closer as if I were suddenly cold. "Was I very bad?" I asked.
Novari put a hand on a round hip and gave me a scolding look. "Well, you did interfere with my storm."
"I put it back the way it was," I piped in defense.
"But really, dear," she said, "you spoiled the whole thing." She waved in the vague direction of Galana. "Because of you, the storm ended too soon. It only lasted a few hours, instead of days. I wish you hadn't interfered, Emilie. It was quite naughty of you."
"People were getting deaded," I said. "That's why I inter— whatever you said I did."
"I suppose that's understandable," Novari said, features softening. "You do have such a delicate nature. I have to make allowances for that. And those ... people ... were your friends, after all."
"Are they all deaded, anyway?" I said, lower lip trembling.
"No, my sweet," Novari said. "They aren't all ... deaded. Your friends are alive. But I can't say much for their future. My troops are hunting them now."
"Why don't you just let them go?" I asked. "I'll tell them not to be bad anymore."
"Oh, I can't do that, sweetness," Novari said. "I'd like to please you. But I can't. Even if I wanted to, I can't. Especially now that they've gone and killed Kato, poor man."
"Kato's deaded?" I gawked. "How?"
Novari shrugged. "I think one of your friends cut his head off. With an axe. A big woman, I was told."
I had to force myself not to smile.
"I don't really mind that much, sweetheart," Novari said. "Kato was no friend of mine. He thought otherwise. But men think all kinds of things. And their notions of friendship with a woman begin and end with their loins.
"But Kato was useful, I'll give him that. He was Director of Orissa, after all. Although there's plenty of candidates to take his place, I can't let poor Kato's death go unpunished."
Then she smiled, teasing. "But I'll tell you what," she said.
"What?"
"I promise you that when they catch your friends, I won't permit torture. It will be a quick death. Painless as I can make it." She clapped her hands delightedly, as if she'd just offered me the greatest gift. "See? Doesn't that make you feel better already?
"Can we be friends now?"
I frowned, as if considering. Then I smiled and said, "I'm hungry."
Novari burst out laughing. "What a delightful child," she said. "I just know that we're going to get along very well indeed."
Then she said, "Come, Emilie," and held out her hand.
I stared at her, hesitating, as if weighing a difficult decision.
"I don't bite little girls, Emilie," she said.
I gave a nervous giggle. Then, acting reassured, I took her hand and skipped along the path beside her. She led me to the familiar garden bench where I'd last supped with Amalric and Omerye more than fifty years before.
There were little trays of delicacies waiting, sweets and tarts and finger cakes. There were sweating pitchers of cold milk and fruit juices. Fresh fruit and cheese and small, covered pots of sherbets sitting on a bed of ice.
I scooted onto the bench near a sticky pile of sweets. I made certain I stayed in character, choosing a frosted date with the greatest of care. Then I nibbled on it delicately, brushing away any sugar crumbs from my cloak as fastidious as little Emilie ever was.
"This is good," I said.
"Why don't you take your cloak off, Emilie?" Novari suggested. "It must be awfully hot under there."
My Rali self chortled: You have no idea, woman. But my Emilie self pulled the cloak closer. I patted it like it was an old friend, feeling the lump in the inside pocket—the pocket where the silver leaf and splinter were rolled up tight.
"That's all right," I said "I get cold easy." And then I said, dignified as I imagined a small child could be, "I do hope I am not being rude."
Novari laughed. "Such a little princess," she said. "So proper. So sensitive and sweet. I love you, Emilie. I really do."
And I thought: You always were too quick, Novari. You really rush a girl, don't you?
But in Emilie's high voice I said, "Why are you deading everyone, Novari?"
The Lyre Bird's smooth brow furrowed into a lovely frown of great concern. "You've been listening to my enemies too much," she said. "I'm not ... killing everyone. Only those who deserve it. And even then only when it becomes necessary."
My face suddenly pinched up and tears spilled out. "You deaded my father!" I accused
"And I'm so sorry that I did, sweetness," Novari said, tears of sympathy welling in her own eyes. "I felt very cruel to hurt you so. But I didn't do it because I wanted to be mean. Novari isn't mean. She doesn't hurt things for pleasure. She hates to hurt people. But sometimes they make her hurt them.
"And that makes her mad. Really, really mad."
Lower hp trembling, I said "Were you mad at my father? Is that why you deaded him? And all the other Anteros. Were you mad at them, too?"
"I suppose I was, Emilie dear," she said. "I told you I can only speak the truth. Which means I sometimes have to admit things to myself that make me feel quite uncomfortable."
She sighed. "Such sorrow truth brings," she said "It's a heavy burden. You have no idea."
"Why were you mad at them?" I asked. "What did they do to you?"
'T don't want to say bad things about your family, dearest,"
Novari said. "But the truth is one of them tried to kill me long ago. Her name was Rali Antero. Your aunt I believe."
I nodded. "I've heard stories about Aunt Rali," I said. "She was a great warrior. And Evocator."
"That's the very same Rali Antero," Novari said with a bitter smile. "A hero to all." She added quietly, "Even to me."
"Why did she try to deaded you?" I asked. "Were you mean to her? Were you mean to my aunt Rali?"
I was amazed when I heard Novari sob. I looked up and saw her struggling to answer. Sudden tears running down her cheeks.
"Mean to her?" she said. "Why, I offered her everything. I loved her, Emilie. She was the strongest and the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Rali was so sure of herself. Completely confident. Even when I had her locked in the dungeon."
Novari shrugged. "That was because of a little mistake I made. And I don't blame her for being angry about the mistake." She waved, vague. "People were killed. Things like that. But I tried to atone for it
"I wanted to make her my queen. My equal." She hesitated. "Well, almost equal. But close enough. And all I asked was that she share her power with me. The power of the Anteros."
"If you were being so nice," I asked, "why did my aunt Rali say no?"
The tears vanished and Novari became angry. "Because she was a fool," she snarled. "A fool! How could she spurn me— the Lyre Bird? I have suffered all the sorrows that women everywhere have suffered. Who could understand Rali's pain more than me? How could she turn her back on my own womanly pain? I am the embodiment of all such suffering. She knew that. I told her everything, Emilie. Everything! So she had no excuse."
She leaned closer, her perfume swirling all around me. "1 am the creation of hundreds and hundreds of young girls just like you, Emilie. Girls who were degraded and tortured for the pleasure of evil men." She tapped her breast. "They're all inside of me, Emilie. The souls of all those poor girls. And they weep all the time.
"You can't imagine what it's like to hear them crying. Always crying. They're crying now. But how can I let them out? And still be ... the Lyre Bird?"
"So you deaded her," I said flatly. "You deaded my aunt Rali."
Novari calmed herself. Then she nodded. "Yes, I did, Emilie. I killed her. But she tried to kill me twice. The second time she almost succeeded."
She shrugged. "I don't die easily. I'm not even certain 1 can die. I suppose I'll find out someday."
"You can live forever? I asked, voice full of childish awe.
"I think so," Novari said. "And that's what I'm offering you, Emilie. You can live forever, too. And someday, when you grow up beautiful and strong, you can be my queen."
"If I say no," I asked, "will you deaded me? Like you deaded Aunt Rali?"
My question jolted her. She stared at me for a long time. Then she laughed, trying to make light of it, saying, "What a question for a pretty child to ask."
She rose and slipped onto the bench beside me. "You're such a dear, Emilie." Her eyes were wet. "So intelligent and perceptive."
She hugged me, and I pressed my face against the softness of her bosom. Her fingers touched my hair in an absent caress.
But when she answered, I noticed she tried to slip around my question.
"We'll have lots of time to talk about things, sweetness," she said. "You're upset now. Worried about your friends. I don't expect you to be convinced all at once.
"And we'll have all kinds of fun. I'll show you some magical games you can play. And there'll be lots of clothes and toys and presents. More than any little girl could ever dream of." Novari had never known such childish delights, so there was a wistful edge to her tones.
"And people will have to do what you say, Emilie," she continued. "Because you'll be a real little princess. Novari's princess. And whatever Emilie commands, all will obey." "Except you," I pointed out.
Novari laughed. "What a child!" she exclaimed. "Fired directly at the target."
She patted me. "We're going to get along just fine, sweetness," she said. "We'll have a wonderful time. You're going to love every minute of it."
"What if I don't?" I asked.
"Don't what, my sweet?"
"Love every minute of it?"
Novari paused, then said in a low voice, "Then I'll have to do without you, child. Like I had to do without your aunt Rali."
So there was my answer.
Circuitous as the route might have been, Novari had finally been forced to tell the truth.
Suddenly I hugged her fiercely, saying, 'Til be a good girl. I promise I will." And I burst into tears.
Unlike Novari, I could lie.
She comforted me and made soothing noises. So I hugged her harder still, covering the sorcerous tendril I slipped out and sent sniffing into the Otherworlds. Searching for the little demon monkey I'd cast there...
And I heard him close by:
Chitter chit. Chitter chit.
He'd broken through the Lyre Bird's shield.
Chitter chit. Chitter chit.
I released him from the spell and he chittered wild joy and went scampering off into some monkey paradise.
Then I loosened my embrace and squirmed in Novari's lap as if I were suddenly restless.
She let me go, and I leaped off and skipped toward the fountain and my mother's shrine.
"Where are you going, child?" she called, getting up to follow.
"Over here," I said. Which is answer enough for any child.
I stopped at my mother's shrine. "I used to play in this garden all the time," I said as Novari came up, so light and graceful on her feet she seemed to float above the path.
"I suppose you would have," she said. "It was your home, after all. And now it'll be your home again. But with me. And you can play here all you like."
"I used to play with Amalric and Halab," I said. "They were my brothers."
Novari frowned. "How could you, Emilie? I don't know who Halab was, but Amalric Antero was your great-uncle. Not your brother."
I shrugged. "Maybe they were ghosts." I pointed at the shrine. "That's my mother's special place." I pointed out the fountain. "And that's her special fountain."
Novari grew impatient. "Come now. You know very well that shrine belongs to Emilie Antero, your great-grandmother. That's who you're named for. What game are you playing, child?"
"It's no game," I said. "It's the truth."
Then I frowned. "Or maybe another ghost," I said. "There's lots of Antero ghosts. Lots and lots of ghosts."
I turned away, taking the rolled-up leaf from my cloak pocket I unrolled it hiding the splinter in my palm. Then I dipped the silver leaf into the water.
It came up glittering and fresh as if it'd just fallen from the branch. Glowing drops splattered on the pavement.
I turned back to Novari, suddenly blushing and shy.
"What's that, Emilie?" Novari asked, indicating the sparkling leaf.
I said, shy as I could, "A present For you."
Novari looked pleased. "What a treat" she said. "Your very first present to me." But she hesitated, fingers inches away from the leaf.
She examined it "A silver leaf," she finally said. "How pretty. Where did you get it?"
"I grew it myself," I said proudly. "I worked ever so hard growing it. Because to get a leaf you have to grow a tree first.
And I had to water the tree every day for weeks and weeks and weeks and weeks. And then a leaf got borned."
I held up a finger. "It's the only one."
I pushed the leaf toward her. "You can have it if you want." I shrugged, suddenly indifferent. "I can grow another any old time."
Her hand moved to the leaf.
I had the splinter hidden beneath it, and I gave a little push just as she touched—pricking her with the sharp point.
"Ouch," she said, snatching her hand back. She frowned at the speck of blood on her finger.
"I'm sorry," I said.
I held out the splinter. "This was in my pocket, too," I said. "It must've gotten stuck to the leaf."
"You should be more careful, Emilie," Novari said, a bit angry.
I felt my eyes fill with tears. "I didn't mean to spoil the present," I said, all atremble. "You won't get mad, will you?" A hysterical edge caught my voice. "You won't deaded me, will you? Just for a little mistake."
"Of course I won't, child," Novari said impatiently. "Here. Give me the leaf. I love the present. Thank you very much.
"And then I'll give you a present. And we'll be the best of friends."
"Forever and ever," I said.
"Yes, dear. Now, give me the leaf."
I gave it to her, fumbling as I did so she'd touch it with her wounded finger and her sorcerous blood would mingle with the magic of the silver leaf.
Novari howled as if she'd just plunged her hand into a vat of lye.
She leaped away, flailing the air, trying to let loose the leaf. But it had become molten, adhering and burning her with its sorcerous heat.
"Get away, get away," she screamed, shaking her hand furiously. Then she recovered wits enough for spell-casting and shouted, "Begone!"
The molten leaf vanished But the skin o
n her hand was an angry red.
She stormed over to me, anger searing the air with a heat as intense as the burning leaf—and I smelled the sulfurous poison of the killing spell she was forming in her mind.
I pretended to cower, but I was reaching for my own magical weapons^ senses finding and marking the weakness in her shield.
"What did you do, Emilie?" she screamed. "What did you do?"
The heavens were split by lightning.
And the voice of a giant child called out.
"EMILIE? YOU WANT EMILIE? WHERE, OH WHERE COULD SHE BE?"
There was a giggle and the skies shimmered with the child's amusement. And then she chanted:
"Emilie here. Emilie there. Emilie, Emilie everywhere. Up and down. All around. Better look out for Emilie, Emilie, Emilie Emilie."
There was another blast of lightning and a great white cloud scudded into view. The cloud had Emilie's face.
Novari stared at me, then the cloud. Her mouth opened wide. It was the first time I'd ever seen her features less than perfectly composed.
And then we heard:
"EMILIE SAYS STOP!"
The sky seemed to crack. First a long jagged thread splintered the blue. Then other threads formed. Faster and faster.
And then they shattered, and pieces of blue sky and bright yellow sun fluttered down from bleak winter heavens.
A harsh wind swept through the garden. Flower heads froze to their stems. Insects fell to the ground. The water in the fountain popped and cracked, then froze in midair.
And the gray one-eyed cat squalled and ran for shelter.
Then, echoing from far off Galana, I could hear the strains of music coming from Novari's great lyre machine.
But it wasn't Novari playing.
A child's voice accompanied the music, singing a merry tune:
"Emilie here. Emilie there. Emilie, Emilie everywhere. Up and down. All around. Better look out for Emilie, Emilie, EmilieEmilie."
It began to snow, light glittering flakes drifting down from the cloud and swirling all around us.
I took a step toward Novari, my heavy soldier's boots crunching the snow. Novari stared at me, features clotted with surprised disbelief.
I was tall and strong now. A mailed warrior woman with a pirate's patch, a single fierce eye, and a golden hand glowing with power. And in that hand I held a silver spear, the transformed splinter from my ship.
