“Will you send no one, O king?” snapped Etlu-kashid, stepping forward toward the throne. Shokorru stopped him with a glare, and he stepped back. Still, he went on: “Have we not traded with our brothers in Pirulat for generations? Have we not fought beside the sons of Pirulat in many wars?”
The king growled, and one of the priests darted forward to tug at the young man’s arm. Etlu-kashid shook him off with a snarl. “If you will not go, O king, let me go! I will take the young warriors, and we will bring back plunder!”
“If you go, you go alone,” the king growled back, a storm gathering in his face. “You will not take any of my other warriors on this fool’s errand!”
“You don’t think your warriors can stop a fleet of pirates?” the shield-bearer challenged him, looking over his shoulder at the men behind him. The other warriors in the room drew closer.
“Be silent, you young fool!” Shokorru snapped, surging to his feet again. He spread his arms wide and spoke to his men in a battlefield roar. “Why does the king of Pirulat write to me? He is vassal to the king of Arinna! The great king, king of three dozen cities! Why does he not ask him for help?” He stared at Etlu-kashid. “I will tell you. He has asked him, and the king of Arinna has not sent help. He too is being attacked by these sons of the sea. If the king of Arinna cannot drive them off, how shall we? This is a fight for empires, not cities.”
“They have not come here!”
“But they will come,” Shokorru answered, his voice low. “They will come. They are sailing south. They began with Arinna; now they reach Pirulat. We are next, Etlu-kashid. This is not the time for any warrior to leave the city.”
His shield-bearer clasped his hands behind his back, his face still tight. Then, in a voice so quiet that only Shokorru could hear, he said, “When I am king, I will send help to our brothers. I am not afraid.”
Shokorru grunted. “If you do not stay here to marry my daughter in two months’ time, you will never be king in Gubla.”
Although none of the men who had heard the message of the envoy from Pirulat admitted to having repeated it, within a few hours everyone in Gubla was talking about it.
“I don’t know why everyone is so upset,” puffed Aunt Ashui, who was growing plump. “The Sun of Arinna will drive these raiders away from his shores, and then he will clean them out of Pirulat.”
“Your cousin has not driven them away during these past seven years when they have been coming in greater and greater numbers,” Tsalat said, her face as beautiful as ever but thin from care. “We certainly cannot expect help from Arinna.”
“Shokorru ought to have made his bow to Arinna years ago instead of keeping up this absurd pretense of a tie with the Black Land,” Ashui snorted. “Then he would know where to look for help!”
“You will not speak so of the-king-my-father,” Tsalat ordered in a dangerous voice.
“Peace,” Perakha said softly from where she sat half-reclining on her couch. “Let us not quarrel. We knew that the raiders would come, for the prophet told us on Palli’s name day: ‘Enemies from the far off isles will bring desolation on the empire of Arinna; they will destroy the cities of the Sea.’”
Shiunan-ashui gasped and crossed to Perakha in one quick stride, raising her hand as if to strike. Palli, who had been sitting cross-legged beside her mother, rose smoothly to block her way. “Do not curse my people!” Ashui snapped, thwarted.
“Ha,” Tsalat muttered. “Is your heart still with your mother in Arinna? Where is your loyalty to your husband’s city?”
“I do not curse anyone,” Perakha said gently, reaching out to grasp Ashui’s clenched fist. “But the word of the God Who Answers will come to pass.”
Palli held her breath until her aunt turned away. I’m so sorry, Auntie, she thought, watching the older woman storm off. I’m sorry that your friends and your family are in danger. I’m sorry that you might lose your old home.
“That woman!” Tsalat snapped, drawing herself up elegantly. “She understands nothing. If we must lose all, let us do so with courage and dignity.” The princess’s eyes were bright and fierce.
“Gubla will be safe,” Perakha reminded her.
“Will it?” Tsalat asked wearily.
“It was promised.”
“No god cares for the promises he makes to mortals,” Tsalat said, shaking her head. “The gods are not to be trusted.”
“The God Who Answers—”
“Don’t speak to me, Perakha. If we are saved, speak to me then. But until then, don’t speak to me.” Tsalat swept away after Ashui, her hands plucking feverishly at the upper flounces of her dress.
Palli looked bleakly after her. In two months, she would be sixteen years old and Gubla would either be saved—or not. The older she got, the more frightened she was; and yet the more determined she was that Gubla would not be lost through any act of hers.
She thought almost constantly about her wedding day. She was glad she would sleep—that a faithful heart would come from far away to wake her. She did not want to marry Etlu-kashid. He cared only about fighting in wars. He would not be a good king for Gubla, she thought, even though my father chose him.
Her wedding troubled her. If her father truly believed in the prophecy of the God Who Answers, why would he hold a wedding for her? Sometimes she thought that she and her mother were the only people who remembered what the prophet had said. If it were really true, wouldn’t more people remember it? Wouldn’t more of them care? she wondered.
But she would not stop believing now. Not so close to the end of her long wait. God Who Answers, can you hear me? Please remember your promise. I couldn’t bear it if you changed your mind like all the other gods. Please.
The morning of Palli’s wedding, she woke to a world covered in dew. The ground sparkled with crystal gems, and the sea was so clear and so blue that Palli could see the reefs below the cliff.
Her mother helped her into her flounced dress, its hems decorated with shell and tiny lapis lazuli beads. Tsalat brought out the royal jewelry, the jewelry that had belonged to King Shokorru’s mother until she died: precious beads and a crown of golden flowers, a golden pendant and lapis lazuli earrings. Palli would have protested—there was so much, and it was so heavy—but Tsalat insisted. “Today you marry the king-to-be. As his chief wife and your father’s heiress, you will be queen in Gubla. So wear the jewelry, Palli dear.” Aunt Ashui, determined to be generous and good-natured after her long sulk, brought out her best perfume. She was so generous that Palli was nearly suffocated by the smell.
“I smell like an incense offering,” she whispered to Tsalat when Ashui had gone out into the hall.
“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be in this prophecy of yours? A sacrifice for the good of Gubla?” Tsalat said in a hard voice.
Palli dropped her eyes and said nothing. After a moment she heard a sigh, and her sister leaned forward to kiss her forehead. Palli smiled with her eyes, the hard words forgotten.
There was a procession, the people of Gubla lining the streets and throwing flowers at Etlu-kashid in his chariot and at Palli in her sedan chair. Palli smiled shyly at the children but didn’t look anyone else in the face. Everyone looked so happy and excited; she didn’t want them to see her nervousness. There were sacrifices to two dozen gods, major and minor; this took a long time, as each sacrifice had its particular blessing. Then she sat behind a screen while envoys from various places (almost all, she noticed, from south and east of Gubla) gave congratulatory speeches and laid out their gifts. She wished she had been allowed to sit in the upper rooms of the palace with her mother and Tsalat and Aunt Ashui and to watch it all out the window; then she might have enjoyed the sight.
“A fine bronze image of the Lady of Gubla, from your brother the king of Uzu,” one of the envoys was announcing while Shokorru’s scribe scratched away busily with his stylus, recording the gifts.
“A humble object set with sea glass, from a humble admirer of Gubla’s Beauty,” said a
smooth voice, much nearer. Palli looked up with a start. An old man in a long cloak and an embroidered skullcap bowed before her, holding a tapering wooden . . . something across his palms. The wide, rounded base was indeed set with sea glass.
“Shouldn’t you present it to the-king-my-father?” Palli asked softly. Perhaps the old man was a foreigner and did not know the way of things in Gubla.
The old man looked up. “This gift is for you, great queen,” he said, a spark of malice in his eyes.
A spindle. He’s giving me a spindle, Palli realized, suddenly recognizing the object. I suppose this must be Kashap. He didn’t trust the Serpent God to deliver his curse for him, so he came to do it himself. Now that it came to it, she wasn’t frightened at all.
“Thank you,” she said, and put out her hand.
“Palli!” came a woman’s scream from an upper window.
I’m sorry, Tsalat. Palli wrapped her hand around the spindle. Ouch! She pulled back her hand, and a single drop of blood fell from her finger.
“Aha! So much for your plans, King Shokorru!” Kashap shouted, his face contorted with sudden glee. “Where is the Beauty of Gubla now?” He lifted the spindle triumphantly above his head. Palli’s blood trickled down the wood to splash unheeded on his leathery cheek.
But I don’t feel anything, Palli thought, a little worried.
Gloom gathered around the sorcerer, seething around his feet then rising like the tide. The last thing Palli saw before the darkness took him completely was a glimpse of his malevolent face. Then the cloud of darkness rose into the air and blew away toward the sea, where it sank into the mists and vanished.
“Magic!” Shokorru roared. “KASHAP!”
Palli stepped out from behind the screen, and the crowd surged toward her. But even as the first of them reached her, they slowed, eyes closing. With a sound like a sigh, the people of Gubla fell asleep.
Palli saw her father falter and fall; she saw Etlu-kashid, eyes dim, crumple into a heap on top of one of his companions; she heard Tsalat’s screams fade. Someone’s pet monkey gurgled and curled up on a guardsman’s chest.
She was on the ground without knowing how she had gotten there. A rug made of thin braids dug into her cheek. Her eyes, flickering shut, saw her crown of golden flowers lying fallen on the ground. The curse has come true. God Who Answers, save . . . my . . . city . . . .
Palli slept.
From his mist-veiled rock off the coast of Gubla, Kashap the magician stared at the city. He didn’t know how the curse would look when it took effect—What was that?
Thorns, a wall of thorns shot up from the ground to snatch bitterly at the sky and tie themselves into an unbreachable wall around the city. “Trapped! You’re trapped, Shokorru!” Kashap shouted. It was even better than he had expected! But the people of Gubla must not escape . . . .
He sat and waited, fingers plucking at the rock. No one will get out of Gubla alive, he promised. Not if he had to sit here for a hundred years!
The former high priest, his eyes lit with madness, began muttering an incantation.
Chapter 4
PALLI WATCHED AS CLOUDS curled around her, turning gold as the sun set. I wonder if there is another road to Far Horizon in the clouds, she thought. How beautiful it was to be looking down on Gubla, on the sea sparkling against the rocks.
I’m dreaming, she realized, not surprised. She had, she thought, been dreaming for some time without realizing it. My city . . . Her heart turned to Gubla, and it grew nearer. A great tangled wall of briars covered the barricades and barred the gates, a thorn grove more than fifty feet thick. Brown and black shapes scuttled and slithered along its base. Snakes and scorpions, Palli thought, disgusted. She hoped they couldn’t get into the city; the sleeping people could not defend themselves.
The instant she thought it, she began to sweep low along the inside of the wall. Stone rushed past; her father’s guardsmen slept peacefully at their posts with no sign of Kashap’s curse-creatures around them.
Is this real? Palli wondered for an instant. Am I seeing what is truly happening? Then the thought fled away.
The moon rose. Palli rose with it, soaring high above the clouds; she did not notice the thin tendrils of black mist that seeped through the barrier of thorns, creeping along the ground until they reached the faces of the sleeping people. The scraps of mist drifted over the closed eyes, over the prone bodies, then blew out to sea again, to where the sorcerer sat chanting.
High in the pure air, Palli flew for a long time. At last she came down again, attracted by wavering lights shining up from below.
Set in a swathe of once-green farmland not far from the sea was a city. It was burning. An army swarmed around and through it; a long column of prisoners was already forming.
No! Palli did not know the city or the place, but her heart ached. She spiraled low toward the broken entrance. The bronze-banded gates were now blackened with fire, their reliefs battered out of recognition.
Someone threw something over the wall, and a cheer rose up from the victorious army. “The king of Pirulat is dead! Let us divide the plunder!” The man at the top of the wall said more, but Palli did not know the language.
Palli cried out, and a few of the soldiers turned, scanning the skies. “Only a night bird,” one said to his companion.
With a twist and a thought half-thought, Palli swirled into the burning palace. She did not know what she was looking for, only that she must find—find—
The royal nursery, yes! A child crouched, staring toward the door.
You can’t stay here! Palli tried to shout, but the girl did not look up.
God Who Answers! Answer and let her hear me! I know this wasn’t in your prophecy—that I would still act while I slept—but please don’t make me watch without being able to help!
“What are you?” asked the child, eyes narrowing suddenly.
Follow me! Palli insisted, and swept out the door. Cover your mouth and nose!
Coughing, the child followed. Palli led the girl out of the palace to a group of the palace servants; but before she could think of a way to get them all out of the city and to safety, the city slipped away and she sank into the dark of dreamless sleep.
Palli dreamed, and dreamed again. She saw smoke rising over the Silver City of Arinna, its walls broken, its empire fallen. She saw ships burning on the water. She tried and tried to help—but she could touch nothing, and often none could hear her. Sometimes she was in the midst of helping when the world slid suddenly sideways and she found herself in Gubla, looking down at her own sleeping self.
Will these pirates destroy the whole world, and only Gubla be left? she wondered.
The sun shone in her eyes; she came up out of sleep and knew that she was dreaming again. Something had half woken her, something she had heard with her body’s ears.
There it was again: a horn sounding a higher note than the horns of Piyampetcha. Ships coming to the harbor—the pirates! A fleet of two dozen ships swept down the coast, just far enough offshore to miss the reefs. They must have seen the palace and the Ladytemple atop the cliffs.
The thorn wall protected Gubla on the land side, but if the raiders could scale the cliffs, they could get into the sleeping city. Would they fall asleep then too? Palli didn’t know, but she feared that they would not. The sleep had come from the prophecy, and the prophecy had said nothing about people from outside Gubla.
God Who Answers! I must stop them, Palli thought, feeling more alert than she had in a long time. But what could she do? She couldn’t touch the ships, or the sailors with their feathered headdresses and copper earrings.
The water rippled below her, light shining down like a road into the Deeps. The Deeps! The Deeps! she thought. Was anything there that could help her? She pivoted and dove, her dream spirit moving through the water as easily as through the air.
Down and down. She thought she flew for hours, but it might only have been seconds; it was hard to tell in the dream. She hoped
she would not get lost in the dark.
A great triangular shape loomed before her, drifting like a sunken ship. She caught the faint glitter of an orange eye. Litan! Litan! she called. Please help!
The sea monster rumbled and turned, eyes opening. “Who’s there?”
It’s me, Palli, she answered. There was no reason the creature should recognize her, but Palli thought, dreamlike, that her name would be enough.
“Oh, is it?” he hummed. “Why do you wake me from my sleep? I’m tired. These are sleepy waters nowadays.”
I came from Gubla. The pirates are coming! They’ll get into the city and kill everyone, Palli explained. Is there something you can do?
“Gubla. The city up above?”
Yes. Please!
“There used to be many fishermen in these waters,” the Litan rumbled thoughtfully, turning belly-up in the water. Upside-down, he eyed Palli, swishing his thick tail slowly back and forth. “When I was hungry, I just took a net full of fish. Not a boat; boats are prickly and make my throat sore. Now I have to find my own fish.”
If the pirates kill everyone, there may never be fishermen here again, Palli told him. You’ll have to catch your own food or go and live somewhere else.
“Hmmph,” he puffed, turning slowly right-side up again. “But I like it here.”
Palli waited.
“I suppose I’ll have to do something,” he sighed, orange eyes glittering. Slowly he rose upward through the water. Palli, stifling her impatience, rose with him.
The pirates had never seen anything like the Litan.
He surged out of the water, his black scales gleaming like broken rock, and rammed one of the larger boats, pushing it sideways against another. With a roar, he grabbed the anchor ropes of another ship in his mouth and plunged down into the Deeps. The boat stood nearly on end and began to sink; the sailors, yelling shrilly, managed to cut the anchor ropes. The ship crashed back onto its keel with a crack that suggested its seams had split. The Litan capsized a fourth boat, jaws gaping in a monstrous grin, and amused himself by making little rushes at the others until the refugees from the four damaged boats managed to load themselves onto the undamaged ones. Then he chased them out to sea.
Five Magic Spindles: A Collection of Sleeping Beauty Stories Page 10
