The Crystal Clipper

by B. Roman

  Now, David's eyes glow hot and threatening. He jerks his body slightly, clenches his fists. “Wait a minute. Do you know where Sally is? Do you? If you do, you'd better tell me or - “

  “No, I don't know where your Sally is,” Jaycina says with a cool, unaffected calm. “But possibly I could help you find her.”

  “How.” David is insistent.

  “I cannot divulge any secrets,” she says evasively, “unless of course I felt you were worthy of my trust.”

  “And what would convince you?”

  “Come with me to the tunnels,” she invites him, “and we will see.”

  Through a secret passageway from her chamber, David follows Jaycina to the mines. They are a stark contrast from the glistening interior Palace halls above ground. Here in the mine tunnels, hundreds of men labor relentlessly in the eerie yellow light, gleaning crystals and gemstones from the rocky walls. Sweat glistens on their bodies as they strain from the grueling work and the unbearable heat. If they falter, they are whipped. They beg for water, but are denied more than a swallow.

  It is incredible, David thinks, that people can treat other people this way in this day and age. But then, what day and age is this? Past? Present? Future? Where in God's name am I? And how in hell do I get out?

  “It's like an oven in here! How can these men stand it? What gives you the right to treat them like this?”

  “It is the life they have chosen as part of their allegiance to the Serpent Ruler.”

  David finds Jaycina's statement ironic. “I don't think this is what they had in mind as part of the deal.”

  “We all must live with the choices we make, David,“ she says maternally.

  “If we have a choice, you mean.”

  “Everyone has a choice, including you, dear boy. You can choose to stay, or you can choose to go. I will not stop you.”

  He faces Jaycina square on, casts her a wary eye. “You mean you would let me leave here? Take Saliana, too?”

  “Of course I would,” Jaycina says, amenably. “But there is a condition attached.”

  “Which is?”

  “If you choose to give up your quest to find Sally, you may go any time.”

  David scoffs at this ridiculous stipulation, and ignores her reference to Sally as preposterous. What is she really up to? “Why did you bring me down here? It's not winning you any points.”

  Jaycina waxes pious, almost comically. “So you may see for yourself the wonders of the Prism Palace, and tell everyone of the work done here for the glory of our great Serpent Ruler.”

  David finds her proselytizing repulsive. “If you mean tell people how you keep these men in slavery, killing them in these tunnels, you bet I would. I couldn't let you get away with this.”

  “But you are wrong, David. These men are quite happy. Look a little closer. Tell me what your eyes see.”

  As though her hand is a sorcerer's wand, Jaycina gestures rapidly and broadly. A spiral of light suddenly funnels across the mind shaft, swift as a cyclone. A magnificent rainbow of colors flashes wildly, changing the very ambiance of the dreary underground. Finally, an aura of peace and tranquility settles in the tunnel.

  Instead of the horrible cruelty that he witnessed only seconds before, David now sees a colony of men working contentedly, singing as they work, laughing and making light conversation as they eat and drink. David rubs his eyes, shakes his head, in disbelief.

  “This is not happening. It's some sort of magic trick.”

  “The only trick is in your mind, David. What your eyes see is what is true.”

  “Beware,” David remembers Ishtar's prophetic warning, “…your eyes will be unable to see what your heart knows is true.”

  Seventeen

  Nothing would have given Ishtar more pleasure than to have Dorinda sprinkle some rat poison in the delectable, simmering stew, then watch as the rodent Judiah choked and gasped his agonizing final breath. No one but Dorinda could have talked him out of such a notion, for Ishtar trusted her ingenuity in seeing that Judiah got his just desserts.

  Now, as Dorinda and Ishtar play host to the traitor in their midst, Judiah gorges himself in blissful ignorance of their desire for vengeance.

  “This is wonderful, wonderful, Dorinda. I've always said you were the best cook on the Island,” Judiah gushes. He holds out his plate and Dorinda serves him another huge helping of stew.

  “Right now, she's the only cook on the Island,” Ishtar quips. His friendly smile is an odd contrast to his eyes which are laser beams of rage.

  Judiah laughs heartily, never taking his own eyes off the sumptuous fare, the kind of food he hasn't had in months. “Always one with a sense of humor, Ishtar.”

  “It seems to run in my family,” Ishtar says, and pours more wine into Judiah's generous-sized goblet.

  “Why else would a man be given a woman's name?” Dorinda plays along.

  “Yes, it's true. Mother had quite a sense of humor. Father was not so amused.”

  “Ah, but your namesake is legendary, just as you will be one day,” Judiah says, lavishing praise on Ishtar in his usual bootlicking manner. “You were meant for greatness, my friend. It is your destiny.”

  Ishtar's mood turns serious. “My destiny will not be fulfilled, I fear, not as long as Saliana is imprisoned.” He shifts to restrained eagerness. “So, tell me, what news have you of David?”

  Judiah casts a sidelong glance at Ishtar, as though afraid to meet the man's eyes straight on. Eating is a convenient protective device. “I have heard nothing since he scaled the Tower wall.”

  “Nor has he communicated with me through the Moldavite,” Ishtar says, voicing sincere concern.

  Judiah stops eating, but his mouth is full. Now, he dares to look at Ishtar, his expression a mixture of apprehension and opportunity. “You fear he is captured?”

  Ishtar nods. “I can think of no other reason he hasn't contacted me. Can you?”

  Judiah hesitates. He swallows the stew loudly. “I hesitate to say, Ishtar,” he begins prudently, then seizes the opportunity. “But you know that I am not quite certain of the boy's motives.”

  “If you did not trust him, Judiah, why did you help him get inside the Palace grounds?” Ishtar treads lightly, but emphatically.

  “Why, for you, Ishtar.” Judiah's response is a fusion of feigned indignation and ardor. “How could I deny you your hope that Saliana would be rescued? If I were wrong about the boy, I could never forgive myself for not helping.”

  Ishtar pats Judiah's shoulder fraternally. “Always there when I need you.” He and Dorinda lock eyes, knowingly. “Yes, you are a good friend. Here. A bit more wine.” Ishtar lifts the carafe to pour but, suddenly, he grabs his chest in pain, spilling the wine all over Judiah.

  “Ishtar! What is it?” Judiah's brows form shaggy parentheses around his shocked eyes.

  Ishtar groans, staggers about the cave, falls over his work table, then slumps to the floor. Dorinda and Judiah rush to his side.

  Dorinda cries hysterically. “Ishtar! Ishtar. Speak to me. Please!”

  “My God,” Judiah gasps. “Is he - dead?”

  Ishtar stirs slightly, flutters his eyes, and tries to speak, but only manages a forced whisper. “Judiah - come closer.”

  Judiah bends a little closer and Ishtar pulls him down by his shirtfront, bringing them both nose to nose.

  “Get word to David - and Saliana. Tell her - I love her - tell her she can stop singing now -” He closes his eyes, breathes a labored last breath, and falls limp.

  Dorinda is grief stricken. “Ishtar! No! Oh, no.”

  “Is he dead now?”

  Dorinda cradles her dear friend in her arms. “Yes. He is dead.”

  Eighteen

  Dorinda wipes her eyes with her scarf and blows her nose into it. “Oh, it was all too much for him. Poor, tormented, Ishtar,” she wails dramatically. “Now he'll never know if Saliana is rescued.

  “What did he mean - tell Saliana she can stop singing no
w?” Judiah's voice trembles, like someone who knows he is in trouble but not quite sure how deep.

  “Well,” Dorinda says, regaining her composure, “you know that Saliana only agreed to sing for the Glass Snake to assure that Ishtar would be safe.” Judiah nods. “But now that he's –” She begins to wail again. Judiah pats her shoulder gingerly. Clearing her throat and restraining her emotions, Dorinda continues. “As soon as Saliana stops singing, the Snake will begin to weaken. He will no longer be invincible.”

  Judiah's mouth pops open in stunned silence. “You mean he could possibly be slain by someone?” Judiah shudders as though surprised that such a suggestion could come from his own mouth.

  “Oh, yes,” Dorinda says matter-of-factly. “And very easily, too.”

  Judiah dares to ask, “How?”

  “Cut off his tail and he will die.” Dorinda graphically illustrates this with a deft swipe at the air with an imaginary knife. Judiah jerks back from her motion.

  “His tail?” Judiah is totally baffled, but attempts to conceal his ignorance. “Yes, yes, of course. His tail.”

  “Go, now, Judiah,” Dorinda requests sadly. “I must prepare my friend for his voyage to eternity.”

  “Can I help you bury him?” Judiah's tone seems slightly eager, then shifting oddly to commiseration, he adds quickly, “My poor friend, Ishtar.”

  “Come back in an hour and you can help me carry him to the beach where the Moon Singer is moored. That's a good spot.”

  “The beach? But - no, no you can't bury him in the sand with all those crabs and scavenger birds,” Judiah protests. What he doesn't say is “The Moon Singer is not there because I'm a traitor and I helped steal her!” What he does suggest is, “How about just a nice proper burial under a tree or something?”

  “Certainly not. I will row him out to the open sea, in plain view of that magnificent clipper ship. Ishtar always wanted to be buried at sea. You wouldn't deny a dead man his final wish, would you, Judiah?”

  “Oh, no, no. Of course not. I just mean that the beach is too far. Let us take him to the cove on the north side,” Judiah's mouth just keeps spewing out solicitous overtures of accommodation, one sentence running into the other. “It's much closer. In fact, I'll go and fetch the dinghy from the beach and have it ready for you. I will even light some torches, as a tribute to Ishtar.”

  “Oh, Judiah, you are a good friend. The cove it shall be. It was one of Ishtar's favorite places.” Dorinda gives him a cursory embrace. Judiah exhales in relief.

  An hour later, as Dorinda requested, Judiah returns to Ishtar's cave to assist Dorinda with the burial. He and Dorinda lift the canvas bag that holds Ishtar's dead body and place it in the dinghy that Judiah brought to the cove.

  “Thank you, Judiah. I will do the rest alone. I wish to say farewell to my friend in private.”

  “Of course, Dorinda. I understand.”

  Dorinda climbs into the dinghy and Judiah pushes it far enough into the water that she can enable the oars. Slowly, she rows the boat away from the shore as Judiah watches, giving a curt wave of acknowledgment now and again. Once Dorinda is past the breakers, she sees Judiah rush from the beach.

  “Only a few more yards, my friend, and you will be swimming with the fishes,” Dorinda says with a wry humor.

  “Hurry up. It's hot as blazes in here,” Ishtar complains from inside the bag.

  “Well, stick your face out and breathe the air. No one can see you now.”

  Ishtar's face peeks out. He breathes in a grateful breath of fresh, sea air. Contented, he then inquires after Judiah. “Do you think he fell for it?”

  “You were very convincing. I almost thought you were dead myself.” Dorinda laughs heartily. “I only hope you can swim to the Moon Singer without truly having a heart attack.”

  “Desire shall be my driving force.”

  “Better you should have webbed feet,” Dorinda quips.

  Dorinda continues to row for a while. The water is smooth and calm, the only sound heard is the dipping and splashing of the oars. “I think we are far enough away from the cove,” she informs Ishtar. “Thanks to Judiah, the poor stupid fool, you are now even closer to where the Moon Singer is anchored. But you must still swim 200 yards to the east.”

  She rotates the oars out of the water and sets them down inside the dinghy. “Let me loosen the strings on the bag. Get ready now. I'm going to push you out of the boat.”

  Dorinda struggles to lift Ishtar out of the dinghy and nearly falls overboard herself when Ishtar's bulk hits the water. A rope tied to the oar braces keeps the bag from sinking. Soon, Ishtar is free of the canvas bag and begins to swim smoothly away.

  Dorinda watches his every move, silently praying. “Pace yourself, Ishtar. Pace yourself. Do not make even one splash.”

  Nineteen

  “You were ordered not to come here again until I called for you.”

  An angry Jaycina sharply admonishes Judiah, who is breathless from his quick jog from the cove to the Palace. But he carelessly ignores her disapproval.

  “Yes, High Priestess. I know. But this could not wait. I have most urgent news.”

  With an impatient wave of her hand, she gives him an opening. “Get on with it, then.”

  Judiah's news is blunt and without embellishment. “Ishtar is dead.”

  “What?” Jaycina's movement from sitting to standing is so swift and powerful that she nearly tips over her weighty, elaborately carved imperial chair. “You bungling idiot!”

  “It's not my doing,” Judiah defends himself. “He had a seizure right before my eyes. His heart gave out. He died almost instantly.”

  “Do you realize what this means?” Jaycina's eyes flash hotter than Judiah had ever seen them, and his boldness begins to melt into sweaty palms. “If Saliana discovers her father is dead, she will cease to sing. This will have grave implications for our Great Serpent Ruler.”

  “Yes, grave indeed, grave indeed. But, Jaycina, it could have fortuitous implications for you.”

  Her temper now under control, Jaycina sits down again, but alert like a panther waiting to spring at the slightest provocation. “Meaning?”

  “Is it not true that you, High Priestess, are truly the ruler of this Palace, indeed of all the Island? You have all the responsibility while the Glass Snake reaps the rewards.”

  “I warn you, Judiah. Watch your tongue.”

  “May it be cut out if I displease you, High Priestess, but was it not you who convinced Ishtar and the Islanders to build this magnificent Palace? And was it not you who shrewdly relocated the Moon Singer out of range of the Glass Volcano, rendering the ship's crystal energy totally useless?” Judiah gushes with barely a breath. He's on a roll of sycophancy, his sole purpose to disarm Jaycina into finally giving him his due.

  “True, you have unimpeachable authority over all the activities of the Palace, but think of the eternal glory you could have as ruler of the Prism Palace if -” Now he fires the winning rejoinder. “ - if the Mighty Glass Snake were dead!” Judiah involuntarily clamps his hands over his mouth and winces, as though realizing he has gone too far and should bite his tongue.

  A silent pause from Jaycina as she considers him and his revelation. Then, she says softly, “But he is invincible, Judiah.”

  “Only if Saliana sings. But if she were to learn that her father is dead, her music would cease. And the Glass Snake would be vulnerable. He could then be easily - killed.” The word squeaks out. Judiah clears his throat. “Ahem - easily killed.”

  “And who would be brave enough to slay the Glass Snake? You, my loyal Judiah?” Jaycina nearly croons this suggestion through pursed lips.

  “Me? Uh - well - yes, for you, High Priestess, I could.” Then mumbles the last, “But only if he was very weak and feeble.”

  “Once again, you have proven your loyalty to me, Judiah. And have surprised me with your courage. You shall be justly rewarded.” Jaycina claps her hands to summon two of her attendants. They enter and bow to
her. “Take Judiah to the Temple Gallery and prepare him for a celebration in his honor, which shall commence tomorrow morning.”

  “Uh - thank you, High Priestess,” Judiah says, with dubious gratitude. “It is my humble pleasure to serve you.” Judiah bows to her several times and backs out of the room, an attendant with a firm grip on each of his elbows.

  “The pleasure,” Jaycina purrs deliciously, “is all mine, Judiah. All mine.”

  Twenty

  Fretful, Saliana paces back and forth in her chamber. The Glass Snake roars impatiently, but Saliana stamps her foot defiantly.

  “No! No, I will not sing anymore!” she shouts. Then in a hushed tone, “Oh, David, David. Where are you? Please come back and take me home.”

  “You mustn't upset yourself, my dear. It is not good for the voice.”

  Saliana spins on her heels to face the High Priestess who has unexpectedly appeared in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

  “Paying you a much overdue visit, my sweet. I fear I have neglected you. Is that why you refuse to sing this evening?”

  “I shall never sing again.” Saliana crosses her arms and sets her jaw stubbornly. What's the point? I'm still a prisoner, separated from my friends, never to see my father. Why should I sing?”

  “When one has a great gift such as yours, how can you deprive the world? It is your duty, your obligation to use this gift.”

  “My gift was meant to uplift the faithful, not to give power to the greedy.”

  “The giving should be unconditional,” Jaycina says, patronizingly, then recants with measured empathy. “But I can see your point. I suspect the real reason for your distress is your friend, David Nickerson.”

  “How did you know about - I mean, I don't know what you're talking about.”

  “Come, come, now,” Jaycina says, meanness creeping back into her approach. “You know perfectly well that nothing escapes me. You believe he is here to rescue you. True?”