The Prophecy of the Gems

by Flavia Bujor

  “Jade and Opal have more character than I do,” she thought. “They’re strong by nature, while I — I have to force myself to be like that. I must put up a fight. If I can convince myself that I’m capable of winning — then perhaps I will succeed.”

  With that, Amber quickened her pace. They had almost reached the farm. The three girls had crossed wide plains, fields, lush green meadows, and a few gentle hills. Behind one of these hills, remote and lonely, the derelict farm now appeared. “Follow me,” said Amber in a low voice.

  They entered a dark and tumbledown stable that had not been used in a long time. Beams sagged, cobwebs had invaded every corner, and the straw gave off a sickening smell. None of this bothered Amber: she lay down on the ground, yawned, and said goodnight. After a slight hesitation, Opal did the same, stretching out near Amber. Appalled by the place, Jade resolved not to join them.

  “I will not sleep,” she announced. “I will not sleep …” Seeing that her words elicited no response, she added, “Oh, don’t you worry about me! I’ll just stand here. Really, it’s no problem.”

  No reply. Suddenly, she had a bright idea. She went over to Amber, who had already closed her eyes, and shook her energetically. Amber stifled a cry of fright, seeing Jade’s face bending over her.

  “Give me your clothes,” demanded Jade.

  “What? Excuse me, what did you say?”

  “We’ve got to swap clothes!”

  “What on earth is she going on about?” mumbled Opal.

  “I didn’t ask your opinion,” snapped Jade.

  Then she turned back to Amber and said urgently, “Hurry up! I have a plan. Hand me your clothes. I’ll lend you my dress. But be careful with it! Don’t damage it, don’t crease it, and don’t get it dirty.”

  “Or else, it’s the end of the world,” sighed Opal sarcastically.

  “For once, you’re right,” Jade shot back in the same tone. “Amber — quick!”

  “If you insist,” said Amber, giving in, “but I’d really like to know why.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Jade. Then, as if struck by a new idea, she added, “No, actually, this is fine. I’ll stay as I am.”

  “But …” stammered Amber.

  “See you tomorrow!” called Jade merrily.

  “Tomorrow?” repeated Amber, now thoroughly confused. “Jade, wait!”

  But Jade ignored her and slipped out of the stable.

  CHAPTER SIX

  An Unwanted Guest

  CROSSING A DESOLATE garden where brambles and nettles grew wild, Jade strode confidently towards the farmhouse. She rapped boldly several times on the rickety wooden front door, shouting, “Open up!” There was no response.

  “The peasant woman must be sleeping,” Jade thought to herself, and she knocked on the door again, twice as loudly this time. For a few minutes, she kept pounding away; then, since no one had let her in and the woman was obviously still asleep, she decided to try something else and let out a prolonged, high-pitched scream.

  Amber and Opal heard this back in the stable and looked at each other in astonishment.

  Jade stopped for a moment, then screamed again, even more shrilly. “That’ll wake up the old woman,” she thought.

  It certainly did. Still only half-awake, the woman looked terrified when she opened the door. Before her stood a girl, extremely elegantly dressed and adorned with priceless jewels. “I’m still dreaming,” thought the peasant woman.

  But Jade spoke up calmly in a voice that was far from dream-like. “Good evening, my name is Jade and I want to sleep in your house, because your stable is most uncomfortable and I do not intend to sleep out in the open. It’s not exactly my style, you see.”

  The old woman looked flabbergasted, her eyes like saucers.

  “I’m used to luxury,” continued Jade, “but a clean bed would suit me well enough. I was driven from my palace, so I must make the best of things. Well, show me to my bedroom now, because I’m quite tired.”

  The woman shut the door. “The girl is mad,” she thought. But Jade began doggedly hammering away, yelling “Open up!” Deeply suspicious, yet plainly curious to learn more, the woman slowly opened the door again.

  Jade looked her solemnly straight in the eye.

  “I had planned,” she announced evenly, “to wear peasant clothing and to make you believe I was a poor girl fleeing dreadful ill-treatment. You would have welcomed me immediately. But I decided to be frank with you, so do not disappoint me. I really am on the run, and even though I don’t look poor, as of about an hour ago, I am.”

  The old woman shut the door again. She had never taken anyone in, and this girl was so strange! But she obviously wasn’t lying; her voice had the ring of truth about it and her expression was perfectly sincere. The woman opened her door a third time, just a little way.

  “Why are you running away?” she asked sharply.

  “Not for the fun of it, believe me! I was forced to, and I have to say even I don’t really understand why. You don’t think I would ever have come to a farm as wretched as yours unless I had to, do you? And don’t slam the door in my face again, it’s not very polite and it’s extremely annoying. Anyway, I shan’t budge until you let me in.”

  Jade’s hostile behaviour left the old woman feeling flustered. This girl had something powerful and unusual about her.

  “Come in,” she said. “Follow me.”

  Jade almost smiled in triumph. The woman led her down a narrow hall to a tiny room, modestly furnished, but cool and pleasant.

  “It was my son’s room,” she said with a sigh.

  “It’ll do,” replied Jade.

  “In any case, it’s the only bedroom, besides mine.”

  “Fine. But I obviously need a proper nightgown.”

  “I’m not running a hotel,” grumbled the woman.

  She left the room without another word, returning in a few minutes to hand Jade a white nightgown yellowed with age, cut from material of middling quality.

  “This isn’t my palace, but it isn’t the stable, either,” said the girl by way of thanks.

  “Make yourself at home,” said her hostess grumpily. “Tomorrow, though, you’ll be off.”

  “Oh, only if I feel like it. But don’t worry, I can’t stay long.”

  “So much the better! Now, go to sleep and leave me alone. You’ve got some manners, dragging honest people out of their beds in the middle of the night.”

  “But I had to! Don’t you understand? Your stable is disgusting!”

  The old woman gave a faint, fleeting smile. She had long ago forgotten how to smile. For years, she had lived alone, waiting in vain for an end to her misfortunes, eventually giving in to bitterness. At last, someone had come, and even though it was only a wilful young girl, bossy and probably mad, it did the old woman good to bring herself out of her state of inertia for a few moments.

  Without another word, she trudged back to her room and fell asleep at once, with a feeling of satisfaction nestling deep in her heart.

  As for Jade, she made a little face and put on the nightgown, which turned out to be a bit large, but warm, and not as scratchy as it looked. She climbed into bed and tried to stay awake and mull over everything that had happened, but her eyes closed of their own accord.

  In the morning, a cockerel crowed as sunlight poured into the bedroom. Jade did not wake up, however, and even slept rather late. When she opened her eyes after her long rest, her first thought was of the mysterious symbol, as if it had filled her dreams. She leapt out of bed and dressed quickly. She had brought with her a small, indispensable turquoise bag, and she now took a brush from it. After carefully arranging her hair, she removed her Stone from its black velvet purse. Holding it tight, she thought, “Tell me what I must do.”

  But nothing happened; the Stone remained a simple piece of jade. Irritated, she put it back in its place. “I know perfectly well what I must do,” she thought. “And this isn’t the thing that’s going to help me.
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  She looked around the room. The dirty white walls had nothing on them; there were a few dusty books lined up on a shelf, and a wooden desk stood against the wall near the bed. Jade went over to the desk. There was nothing on it, but the drawers were stuffed with letters. She tried to read some of them, but she couldn’t make out the scribbled writing made illegible by the half-faded ink. Sighing, she put the letters back. Deciding that there was nothing of interest in the room, she left and, guided by the voice of the old woman talking to her cats, made her way to the kitchen, which also served as a sitting and dining room.

  “There you are,” remarked the peasant woman sourly. “Sit down.”

  Jade took a seat at the rectangular table of solid, rough-hewn wood. “I’m hungry,” she announced. “Give me something to eat, and then I’ll leave.”

  The old woman placed a slice of stale black bread in front of her.

  “Oh, no!” protested Jade, pushing away the bread. “I want something nice. I’m warning you, I won’t go until you’ve served me a real breakfast.”

  “Foisting yourself upon me isn’t enough for you — you’re fussy as well!” cried her hostess.

  “Naturally! What do you expect? Run along now and bring me some fried eggs, fresh bread, jam, hot chocolate, and milk.”

  “That’s all?”

  “No, you’re right, that’s not all: fix me a basket with enough food for several days. I’m on the run, remember, so I must look out for myself. I don’t want to die of hunger. And if that happens, it will be your fault, because you won’t have helped me! Hurry up.”

  “But—”

  “Oh, and while you’re at it,” Jade told the dumbfounded old woman, “bring me a sheet of paper and a pen, too.”

  “What for?”

  “Do you want my death on your conscience?” replied Jade melodramatically.

  Realising that arguing would be useless, the old woman gave in to Jade’s demands. She served her a substantial breakfast, and afterwards prepared several varied and nourishing cold meals, which she placed in a large basket. Tucking heartily into her breakfast, Jade watched her hostess bustling about the kitchen. When the basket was ready and Jade had eaten her fill, having devoured everything on the table, she smiled at the woman and asked her again for a pen and paper. Now she had to concentrate only on the symbol and its meaning. The old woman cleared the table and brought writing materials, and Jade drew the symbol with a steady hand.

  “What are you doing?” asked the woman. “You’re still not satisfied, you want something else? I’ve had enough!”

  “Everything’s fine,” Jade assured her. “But come here, I have something to show you. Tell me what you know about this sign.”

  The old peasant studied the drawing for a long time, then shook her head.

  “I really don’t know a thing about it. I can’t help you.”

  “Don’t hide anything from me,” said Jade in a coaxing tone. “It’s imperative that I find out what this symbol means.”

  “I’ve never seen it before.”

  “You’re absolutely sure?”

  “I couldn’t be surer. But I know someone who would know how to decipher it. He lives a few hours from here, in a city called Nathyrnn.”

  “I’ve heard of it, of course,” Jade said smugly, “but I’ve never been there. Who is this man?”

  “He sells old books. He has travelled a great deal, but …”

  The old woman fell silent. Jade did not notice how upset she was, and pressed her further.

  “Do you know this man well? Can he be trusted? I mean … can I trust him?”

  “He’s my son,” blurted out the old woman, her voice overcome with sorrow.

  “Oh, I see. Why does speaking of him make you cry like this?”

  Sure enough, a tear was sliding down the old woman’s wrinkled cheek.

  “I can’t talk about it.”

  “I’ve told you my first name and I’ve not hidden from you the fact that I’m in serious danger. Now it’s your turn to trust me. You should know by now that I’m not the kind to give up easily. I’ll make you talk to me, because I’m very curious!”

  “My son has many enemies, and you might be on their side.”

  “Don’t worry about that! I have my own impressive collection of enemies — it seems they’re everywhere, and I don’t even know who they are! But what do you expect, these days,” said Jade flippantly.

  “I think I’ll have to tell you my son’s story or I’ll never get rid of you,” sighed the woman.

  “Couldn’t agree more,” said Jade.

  “My son is very special. He has always wanted to learn things: even as a child he loved nature and had such a generous spirit—”

  “Oh, spare me the waffle and tell me what’s so special about him.”

  “We were very poor, much more than we are now,” began the old woman, ignoring Jade’s rude interruption. “At sixteen, my son set out to discover the world. He craved freedom and adventure. One night he disappeared, leaving behind a letter of farewell.”

  “Just one question,” interrupted Jade. “What’s your son’s name?”

  “Jean, Jean Losserand. So Jean became a wanderer. He travelled all over the world, brave and alone. He often wrote to me. One day, he returned from a very strange land, the only country in the world not dominated by the Council of Twelve.”

  “Dominated!” exclaimed Jade. “You’re exaggerating. ‘Ruled’ is more like it.”

  “The only country that is not dominated by the Council of Twelve,” insisted the woman. “Under the Council of Twelve, anyone born a peasant will always remain a peasant. Anyone who is weak will be despised and crushed. Anyone who thinks differently will be forced to conform. Anyone trying to step out of line will be beaten back and trampled. Anyone who is creative will be limited to routine copy work. Anyone who is gifted will be compelled to become ordinary. Anyone who revolts will be killed. Anyone who dreams of liberty will be imprisoned immediately. Anyone who—”

  “Enough!” shouted Jade. “You’re talking nonsense. Anyway, if freedom is forbidden, how could your son be a wanderer?”

  “Exactly; just let me continue. I was saying that Jean travelled to the most extraordinary country. This place is ruled by no one, he wrote to me, and the people all live as they please. But not many travellers can cross the magnetic field that surrounds this territory. To do that, you must believe in the beauty of every individual being, in creativity, in freedom. You must believe in a better world, in the magic of each instant, and in fantastic dreams. You must be able to imagine the unimaginable. Only then can you enter this land. That is why it is inaccessible to the Council of Twelve.”

  “What’s inside this country? What is it called?” asked Jade.

  “It’s called Fairytale. Magic creatures live there, and warm-hearted people … But I can’t really tell you about them, because I’ve never been there. You’ll have to ask my son. I only know all this because of his letters. He told me that any child may enter this land, because what is unreal to adults is normal to a child.”

  “What did your son do there?”

  “What did he do? He helped people, he had unbelievable adventures, risking his life and battling against evil forces.”

  “It sounds like something out of a storybook!” said Jade incredulously.

  “Anything can happen in Fairytale. But my son began to miss his own country and, turning his back on the glory and happiness of Fairytale, he decided to come home. Not many people just decide to leave like that. Some simply stop believing in everything that surrounds them and wake up one day back in their own beds. They can never return to Fairytale. But with Jean, it was different. He just wanted to see his childhood home again.

  “Now, it just so happened that the Council of Twelve decided to outlaw travellers. Jean was arrested by the Knights of the Order and spent three long years in prison. Afterwards he was obliged to find a profession. Since he could no longer travel except through reading
, he became a second-hand-book seller. Ten years ago, however, the Council of Twelve forbade all communication by letter, and since then I’ve received no news from him. He is not allowed to leave the city of Nathyrnn, where he is being watched constantly.”

  “I was going to give you one of my priceless pieces of jewellery to thank you for your hospitality,” said Jade, “but I think I can do better than that. Although it might take a while, I promise I’ll send you news of your son.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A Message for Opal

  ONCE MORE, THE three girls found themselves walking across the dukedom of Divulyon. To avoid drawing attention to themselves, they made a detour around the villages and avoided fields where peasants were working. Nathyrnn was still very far away.

  Amber carried the basket filled with provisions that Jade had brought. During the night in the stable, she had been so worried! She and Opal had spent a long time wondering what Jade was getting up to. Thanks to her active imagination, Amber had come up with a thousand different scenarios, and she shivered at the possible consequences of what Jade might have done. Opal had remained her usual calm self, however, explaining to Amber that she lived only in the present, never looked back on the past, but did not fear the future, either. Jade could do whatever she wanted, and worrying about it wouldn’t change a thing.

  Gradually the conversation had taken another turn. Amber had spoken freely, describing with feeling the world she had left behind. She recreated her daily life for Opal, who was astonished at the love Amber showed for everything. Amber talked about how she watched the moon and the stars, breathed the perfume of every wild flower, ran barefoot in the cool grass, swam in the clear water of the lake. She also explained how much she loved sunshine, and making up marvellous stories, listening to other people and helping them, and reading tales (which were forbidden, it was true, but which she had secretly enjoyed in the home of a generous and learned man). Opal drank in every word. Amber had been happy, she admitted, even though she had lived in the most abject poverty. She had suffered, it was true, but that had only made her happiness more precious. And then, her mother had died … Amber did not tell Opal about her sorrow; it was still too soon for that. But she thanked Opal for listening to her, and realised that by confiding in Opal, she had established a bond, albeit a fragile one, between them.