by Ryk E. Spoor
She smiled and ran her fingers sensuously through her silky hair. “Why, Ugu, I’m so terribly sorry. It wasn’t at all like that, it was just a personal request to Cirrus –” She put her hand delicately over her mouth again, the very picture of a woman who has accidentally revealed too much.
So that is the point she wishes to make. “Personal indeed, My Queen,” he said, with a hardness to his voice which — to his surprise — was not entirely an act. She is beautiful and talented and skilled, and helped bring me from my accursed bondage of centuries to rulership of Oz, and a part of me still wishes she was… what I once thought she could be. “Think you that I am entirely blind, or so old that I cannot see, or unable to watch as things pass within my own realm? I am aware that General Cirrus has been seen leaving your quarters at most inappropriate times. That will stop, Amanita, and it will stop now.”
All the gentleness vanished, and now there was just poison-candy venom in her smile. “You think you can order me in that fashion, Ugu? Order my personal life? Oh, I understand you may miss certain… aspects of interaction, but let us be clear that you have long since had all of your rewards in that area. Cirrus is a far more… compliant and entertaining companion.” She leaned forward and her voice carried the silken hiss of a cobra. “I will see whosoever I like, your Majesty, and unless you wish to show yourself as foolish as other men, you will not risk your life or your current shape by trying to tell me otherwise.”
Ugu’s face was white and his voice, when he spoke, showed the strain of iron control. “I would not dream of interfering in whom you show the favor of your bedchamber, Queen Amanita. But for your sake, as well as that of my own image as the Ruler of Oz — an image you find useful, I remind you — what will stop is the clumsiness of these assignations. You may see whom you will, but you will no longer allow witnesses. The respect of the realm will not be tarnished by such sordid conduct.”
Her eyes narrowed, but the smile slowly returned; apparently she was willing to accept the practical directive with the knowledge that she had truly won the battle. “Oh, of course, my King. So we shall speak no more on that subject.”
Ugu nodded ungraciously. A change of subject. “Then allow me to ask how your researches have progressed, my Queen.”
Her expression lightened. “Oh, very well, King Ugu! In fact, since we are here, allow me to describe this to you — in privacy ensured by my magics, even better than your own.”
And so she tells me subtly that she has realized I have assured myself of security in my own chambers. But I doubt she realizes how carefully or subtly that security has been managed. “I would be most pleased to hear anything you would be willing to tell me.”
She turned and gestured; a small table grew from the ground between them, and the pebbles and grass upon it flickered and became an afternoon tea, with a number of dainty dishes on crystal and china. “Well spoken, my King.
“You understand that our greatest concern is that — despite all of our advantages and preparations — the mortal somehow achieves his power, the fusion of the power of Oz embodied in the Princess and the strength of a mortal being. I have dug deep and searched wide — often with the inestimable aid of your elemental servants,” she bowed in his direction with only a hint of mockery, “who have brought me much information from the other lands of Faerie. Such incidents have only happened a very few times in all our known history, but the past months have permitted me to assemble perhaps the most complete collection of accounts of all of these.” The smile widened. “And it turns out that even in that extremity, we have a good chance to triumph.”
Ugu leaned forward. “You fascinate me greatly, my Queen. How is this so?”
“His time is limited not merely by the nature of the fusion — by the fact that his body and soul will be overstrained by the alien power within him — but by something else.” Her smile grew even wider, a predator’s grin.
And as she continued her explanation, his own smile joined hers. Ahh. So very clear, even inevitable. So as soon as he gains the power, his very triumph is burning towards its own defeat. We need only survive long enough!
Ugu stood. “It is well, my Queen. Though, of course, we hope that this knowledge shall not be needed, as he will serve far better as a sacrifice than as a failed Hero.”
“Of course, King Ugu. Though,” and her smile was even more cold, “the failure of such a Hero would also do much to secure for all time our hold on this land.”
“As you say.”
Ugu bowed and left Amanita, and strode away, deep in thought, for some time. Finally he reached his own section of the Grey Castle.
“My lord?”
He smiled and nodded to Cirrus. “All is well. Very well indeed.”
“So she suspects nothing?”
Ugu’s smile was wry. “She suspects many things, my friend. But she does not give you credit for the strategy, and thus obviously suspects not at all that you passed to her the hints of action against the Hero, or the way in which I might be … missing critical aspects of the situation.”
Cirrus bowed. “Then all proceeds as planned.”
Ugu looked at him. “No… second thoughts?”
Cirrus did not pretend to misunderstand. “Majesty… she is quite beautiful. And…talented in certain areas. But… she is intending to use me as well. And she is even more mad than I had thought.” He shivered. “I will be well pleased when this is over, no matter how… entertaining some of the nights may be.”
Many are the men who would still be unable to think so clearly. A unique and precious find you are, Cirrus Dawnglory. “Soon, my friend. A few more months, I believe… and it will all be finished.”
Second Vision:
Agony of boiling light, cruel radiance tearing her slowly apart, pieces of her own self taken away, forged with hammers of blazing selfish will and cruel luminant ambition.
But the tiny comfort of the point of darkness remained, and she clung to that. Over days and weeks and untold passage of time, when her eyes and soul felt tormented beyond endurance, she could seek it out, so small, but still there, the one still and solid hope in all the light of the terrible world of ceaseless burning cold mystic fire.
Sometimes — for a moment or an eternity — she thought she saw something else, a flicker of different light, almost familiar, not terrible or destroying but laughing, and it danced around the dark point, then away, as though it did not know why it was drawn to the darkness and fled, heedless, to the realms of killing brightness that lay hidden behind all.
She could scream, but there were none to hear, save those who might be taking the strength from her, and they would not care.
And then, one day, like all other infinite days, but it was not. For on that day, when she awakened from the unsleeping rest she found within the unending baking light of all deserts distilled, she opened her never-closed eyes, and looked, and the darkness was no longer a point, but something else, a shape she could not see, but closer, and she knew and laughed, a laugh soundless and tired and agonized, but a laugh.
For Hope now walked towards her, and a Mortal had set foot on Faerie.
Chapter 27.
I couldn’t help but grin as Pearl of Gilgad pulled up to the docks of Pingaree. In some ways it was exactly as I had pictured it; in others, it was far better.
The pearl-fishing kingdom lay on an island, but one considerably larger and grander than Baum had depicted. Still, it was mostly low, with a sea of green palm trees running to the edge of brilliant white sand beaches, surrounded by a magnificent reef breached only in three places, where three small, swift rivers ran down to the sea. Dozens of ships and boats, ranging from sleek little rowboats or sailboats to dual-hulled catamarans and many others, were moored at the docks, or casting off for another voyage even as we entered.
The major difference was one I’d always suspected — and, in fact, was one of the few areas I’d envisioned differently even when I was a very young man. Despite Neill’s illustrations
, the description of Pingaree, its tropical climate, the primary occupation of its people, and its surrounding countries had led me to expect what I now saw: a civilization of more Polynesian than European style, with dark-haired, dark-skinned people vastly predominating.
But this was no simple desert island paradise. I could see on a rise a mile and a half from the port a great marble palace, somehow combining many architectural styles from around my old world — classical lines of Greece, the light, airy colors of the American Southwest, the graceful curves of India, symmetries and carvings that evoked both Mesoamerican and Egyptian civilizations — without seeming a hodgepodge. The city before me wasn’t a collection of palm-roofed huts, but proud houses of light stonework, open courtyards, white stone streets running straight and true through the city. Gilgad had been impressive, but I wasn’t sure if Pindaras (the name of the capital city of Pingaree) wasn’t even more so.
The Pearl had of course been recognized far out at sea, and so I accompanied Inkarbleu and his party as they were immediately escorted to the Palace. My odd armor, light skin, and blond hair naturally drew notice, but mostly they seemed to accept me as just a member of Inkarbleu’s guard.
Pearls were everywhere in evidence, even in the ornamentation of the houses and on all the people, young and old. In truth, pearls were what brought me here — three Pearls in particular, gifted to the rulers of Pingaree by the Sea Fairies: the Pearl of Strength, the Pearl of Protection, and the Pearl of Wisdom. If I had interpreted the Prophecy correctly…
Our party was led through the main gates and straight into the castle. I heard both the tinkling of many fountains and, as we continued, an increasing background of music and many people talking. A set of immense double-doors, appearing to be marble-faced with steel interiors, were thrown open before us. “Lord Inkarbleu and party!” our escorts announced.
Inside was a huge, long table, apparently carven from a single gargantuan tree and supported by fanciful Polynesian-style figures, with room for well over a hundred guests; most of the spaces were in fact full, and we had quite an audience for our entrance. Musicians spaced around the polished white and black hall paused as we walked forward, lowering or straightening up from a surprising array of instruments; while some of them were the woodwinds and simple percussion instruments I might have expected in the setting, there was everything else up to and including a baby grand piano. Not surprising; they can trade through Gilgad with any other country in Faerie.
At the far end, I could see seven very distinct figures sitting at a raised section of the long table. A slender old man, white hair contrasting splendidly with dark-teak skin, sat next to an equally old woman; both had slender circlets of gold on their heads. Similar circlets of gold adorned the heads of two much younger people, a girl and a boy seated opposite each other. Both were dark-haired and dark of skin, the girl appearing to be about seventeen or eighteen, possibly taller than anyone else at the table — about six feet, I’d guess, though she was sitting down — while the boy was tiny.
They sat to the right and left hand of the pair of seats at the very head of the table, which were occupied by a tall, handsome man with black hair, wearing a larger crown; next to him was a beautiful woman of the same age but with lighter skin, almost an Italian cast to her face.
Seated across from the older couple, in a chair so wide both of them could have easily fit in it at once, was an immense man, not terribly short and very much terribly wide, with a great bushy mane of white hair, rosy cheeks and a red nose, who was apparently in the midst of an animated conversation with the others when we had so rudely interrupted.
The latter heaved himself to his feet and glared down the table at us. “INKARBLEU!” he bellowed, in a voice both deep and resonant and with higher overtones that helped it cut across all other speech. “Inkarbleu, you faithless dried-up scurvy dog of a Chancellor, have you deserted your post again? What have I told you about that? Eh?”
“That I will be executed for such flagrant and terrible abandonment of my post, Your Highness,” Inkarbleu replied with equanimity. “But I hope perhaps you will forgive me, or at least wait to carry out my execution until such time as your Highness has finished your dinner.”
King Rin Ki-Tin dropped back into his chair, threw back his head, and gave vent to a long series of laughs. “Ho, ho, ho, hee-hee-hee! When I am… Ha, ha… finished with my dinner! Ahhh, ha! Ha! Finished! With my dinner!” He laughed longer. “Seeking a stay of execution… ha, ha, heeee! … a stay of execution long enough to outlive me, I see! Finished with my dinner? I am never finished with my dinner until it is finished with me, and eventually it’s become breakfast, I think!”
“King Rin Ki-Tin,” the tall man at the far end said, with a fond smile on his face, “Perhaps we should let the doomed Inkarbleu at least tell us what dire errand has brought him here.”
“Oh, indeed, indeed. No executions at dinner, I agree!” the fat King said cheerfully. “Inkarbleu! Justify your conduct, then, to my good friend King Inga!”
I thought so. King Inga. I guess Kitticut retired and handed his son the throne. Which would make the woman with him Zella, I’d bet, if the subtext I got was right.
“A matter of deep policy, your Majesty,” Inkarbleu said. “And one best discussed in more privacy.”
The look Rin Ki-Tin shot Inkarbleu was sharp and shrewd, greatly at variance with his clownish exterior, and the way his gaze shifted to me showed he might have already guessed some of the essence of my mission. “Policy is so tiring. You know, I believe I once made a song about –” he broke off at a glance from Inga, “—but enough for now. Ah, well, I suppose we could retire to the inner chambers long enough for the extra dishes to be tidied up and the next course laid.”
He moved with surprising ease for a man so fat and old, following King Inga who gestured for us to follow; the tall girl started to rise, but a glance from the King — her father, I guessed — dropped her back into her seat. Inkarbleu motioned for me to accompany him but left the rest of our entourage behind.
The next room would have looked quite large had we not just come from the immense dining hall. King Inga, Queen Zella (if my guess was right), and King Rin Ki-Tin seated themselves on one side of a wide conference table and indicated that we should sit as well. I see. The former King and Queen will remain with the festivities.
Inga turned immediately to me and bowed. “Sir, it is clear that faithful Inkarbleu has risked much to bring you here. I am King Inga, and this is my Queen, Zella. You now have the advantage of us.”
“Erik Medon,” I said, returning the bow.
“An emissary of Iris Mirabilis himself,” Inkarbleu finished.
All trace of the clown vanished as Rin Ki-Tin sat up. “Now indeed I forgive you, Inkarbleu. Though undoubtedly I shall threaten you with execution later, just for form’s sake. Deep policy and dangerous, dangerous. So the Rainbow Lord moves at last, does he? HA!” The jolly face was, for a moment, transformed to grim savagery. “Long have I thought my days would end before that day came; you have already brought me great joy, just to hear that hope has not abandoned us.”
“Rin Ki-Tin speaks of hope,” Zella said cautiously, “but we know well the power of our adversaries. What hope is there, truly, Erik Medon?”
I turned to her. “Enough. A prophecy from a source well-trusted by the Rainbow Lord. I may not look precisely as a hero of legend, but I have… certain advantages over others.”
At this range, I could see that the royalty of Pingaree wore — as one might expect — many jewels, especially pearls of all sizes and colors. The King himself wore two earrings with magnificent matched pure-white pearls of extraordinary size. Now, I saw him tilt his head slightly, as though listening to something. He nodded his head and sat a bit straighter. “A True Mortal?”
Excellent. “You see clearly, King Inga.”
“So what can Gilgad do for the Rainbow Lord and yourself?” Rin Ki-Tin demanded.
I grinned. “Already don
e, and cleverly by your Lord Inkarbleu. What I really needed was to get here. What he needed was to do that without actually committing Gilgad to such a radical cause.” Quickly I explained Inkarbleu’s decision.
The three monarchs looked at Inkarbleu with such approval I saw a faint blush on the old cheeks. “So clever a statesman should have been King himself,” Rin Ki-Tin said, with a gentle laugh.
“Such a clever statesman knows far better than to want the post, your Majesty,” Inkarbleu responded, garnering a gale of laughter from his ruler.
“Hooo, hooo, hoo! Too true, too true! As I know, from trying in my manful way to flee from the dread and terrible responsibilities.”
Ignoring the byplay with the same fond smile, Inga leaned forward. “So it was to Pingaree you wished to come. What do you seek here? We have no formidable army, in truth, and while something of a naval force we have acquired, that would do you no good against the Usurpers of Oz.”
“Nothing so obvious or direct, your Majesty,” I said. “Here, I seek only two things — besides of course a trip back to the mainland. First, I need your people to build me a ship, a boat of a very particular design. Nothing too terribly large,” I hastened to assure him, “indeed, just something suitable for a long journey for one person. And to have it transported to a particular spot.”
“And that is all?”
“Well, no, that was really one thing — I mean, getting the ship won’t do me any good if I can’t use it where I want to. The second thing I seek… is the wisdom of Pingaree.”
The King and Queen both straightened and looked sharply at me — as did King Rin Ki-Tin. “How exactly do you mean that?” the King of Pingaree said finally.
