The Wooden Prince

by John Claude Bemis

  What a friend Pinocchio was. What a friend he could have been. He cared nothing of impressing anyone, of doing what he was commanded to do or expected to do. He was driven simply by his concern for those he loved. This was how a good prester should lead.

  Lazuli picked up the Pearl. It was surprisingly heavy. More dense than if it had been solid metal. As she held it, she felt the immense power of the object. Her body tingled from her toes to the tips of her cropped blue hair.

  The others stared at her. Cinnabar smiled. “Our queen,” he said.

  “You will serve me?” she asked.

  They all bowed their heads. “Yes,” they each said in turn.

  “Then the Pearl is mine to do with as I see fit.”

  Lazuli knelt down to Pinocchio and placed the Ancientmost Pearl back inside his chest. She slid it into place and closed the panel.

  “I’ll put it back where it belongs,” she said.

  Golden light filled Pinocchio’s eyes, and he blinked.

  What a terrible sleep he’d fallen into. There hadn’t been dreams that he could remember, but the sleep itself was so unsettling. A cold and empty nothingness. He was glad to be awake.

  Pinocchio looked around. “Why is everyone staring at me?”

  They didn’t answer.

  It came back to him with the force of a thunderclap. Cinnabar wanting the Ancientmost Pearl for Lazuli. Geppetto being shot with the crossbow, except that Lazuli took the bolt instead. She was dying. Then it was all lost.

  He looked at his hands. They were still wooden, but he could feel something happening. Warmth was tingling at the fingertips. “I’m…”

  “Alive, my boy,” Geppetto said, pulling him into an embrace.

  Pinocchio hugged him back hard, until his father grunted and said, “Careful, son. You’ve got the strength of an automa.”

  “Sorry.” Pinocchio looked over his father’s shoulder at Prester John. “Did you do this? Did you bring me to life?”

  “No,” Prester John said, frowning. “Lazuli did. Although I’m not sure exactly what she’s done.”

  Pinocchio let go of Geppetto and faced Lazuli. “How did you do this?”

  “I gave you the Pearl,” Lazuli answered. “I have no need for immortality.”

  Pinocchio touched his chest, feeling the edges of the panel. “But…the Pearl belongs to the ruler of Abaton. That’s you!”

  Lazuli shook her head.

  Cinnabar spat, “So you’re handing over the rule of Abaton to…to a…” He seemed reluctant to insult Pinocchio if he was to be the new prester.

  “Lazuli?” Geppetto said. “You can’t honestly mean for Pinocchio to take possession of Abaton’s throne. He’s not even Abatonian.”

  “Neither was my father,” Lazuli said.

  Prester John was watching all this with a curious expression. “It is true,” he wheezed. “But…this wooden boy? Would your subjects accept him as their prester?”

  “You don’t understand who he is, Father,” Lazuli said. “Look at us here. We would not be here if it were not for Pinocchio. It is because of him that we’ve come this far.”

  The others, except for Cinnabar, were nodding. Even Gragl and her people.

  “But your father’s right,” Pinocchio said. “They don’t know me in Abaton. They know you! They respect you.”

  “So what would you suggest?” Lazuli said with a smirk. “Do you want me to take it back?”

  “No, but—” Pinocchio stammered. “Lazuli, you can’t be serious. King? Me? I’m…well, I’m just an…”

  Lazuli cocked an eyebrow. “Just a what?”

  Pinocchio bit his tongue and then said, “I’m just…Pinocchio.”

  “Yes, you are,” Geppetto said. “And you are my son.”

  “And my friend, darling boy,” Mezmer said. Sop purred in agreement.

  “We will proudly serve you as prester,” Maestro chirped.

  Pinocchio sighed at Lazuli. “If I have to do this, then at least rule with me. I’ll need your help.”

  “You’ll need all of our help,” Geppetto said.

  Lazuli’s mouth twisted apprehensively. “You would agree to be a court adviser, Master Geppetto?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Geppetto said. “As you wish.”

  “And naturally, I’ll be able to counsel you both, along with Geppetto,” Maestro said, his antennae jutting proudly straight up. “The court of Abaton can be a tricky business, even for you, Princess…I mean Queen Lazuli. Fortunately, I know the ins and outs, having served your father as court musician.”

  “Naturally,” Geppetto said. “You were in the Moonlit Court for—what was it?—two, three whole months before Prester John sent you to Venice.”

  Maestro fidgeted on Geppetto’s palm. “It was the quality of my experience serving in court, not the quantity, you incorrigible alchemist.”

  “Of course,” Geppetto said. “Prester John, will you agree to this?”

  “I have no say in the matter,” Prester John said. “The reign is out of my hands. I trust my daughter to make the decision. She has what I never did. Friends.”

  Lazuli smiled. “Then it’s settled.”

  “All hail, King Pinocchio and Queen Lazuli!” Maestro proclaimed, bowing his antennae.

  Mezmer and Sop dropped to their knees. Geppetto joined them, followed by a reluctant Cinnabar. “Hail, presters of Abaton!”

  Pinocchio gave Lazuli a panicky look. “Make them stop, please.”

  “Now you see how I feel,” she said from the corner of her mouth. She gestured for the others to stand.

  Geppetto beamed with joy at Pinocchio as he got to his feet. Mezmer’s orange fox eyes shone. Sop, like all cats, was incapable of smiling, but Pinocchio was sure his snaggletoothed snarl was meant to be a grin.

  Pinocchio smiled back, the smile erupting into laughter. Was this all really true? Was this really happening? He had no idea how to be king. He was just glad to be alive, glad to be back with his friends again.

  Lazuli slowly approached Prester John, kneeling by his side. “What will…become of you, Father?”

  Prester John smiled. “I am dying, child. No, don’t cry. It is all right. I do not mind.”

  Lazuli shook with sobs, and Pinocchio felt his heart lurch watching her. “I mind,” Lazuli said. “I don’t want you to die.”

  “Of course you don’t,” he said weakly. “But I have lived for so very long. And I feel peace now, knowing that you are safe…that Abaton is safe.…I have not felt so happy…in ages.”

  Geppetto said, “Prester John, we will say our good-byes now. Lazuli, stay with him. We will be waiting for you below.”

  Gragl’s people walked past Prester John in a line, making gestures to the lights atop their heads that Pinocchio took as some sign of honor. Mezmer, Sop, and Cinnabar bowed before the dying king, long and low, before turning to climb down the tower. Pinocchio approached the prester with Geppetto and Maestro.

  “Thank you, good Geppetto,” Prester John said with a smile. Then he nodded to Maestro. “And you, my grand musician…I admit I had a poor ear for music, but you…were the finest…”

  Maestro trembled on Pinocchio’s shoulder. “Good-bye, my lord.”

  Prester John took Pinocchio by the hand and spoke softly. “You will discover how to use the Pearl. It…has many powers. The foremost is the power…to command the elemental forces of the world. The Deep One is but one of the four primal beings. The monster-queen of oceans…she will obey you.”

  “So for us to leave,” Pinocchio asked, trying to wrap his head around all this, “I can tell her to…um, open her mouth?”

  “With the Pearl…you command her,” he said.

  “Oh, good,” Pinocchio said, still not quite sure how this commanding business was going to work but eager to try.

  Prester John gave a soft smile. “I am beginning to grasp why you are so remarkable, lad. Yes…your friends are right. I believe…you will make a fine prester.”

  �
��Thank you, my lord.” Pinocchio gave a deep bow.

  Before he left, he looked back at Lazuli. Tears wet her face. But she smiled at Pinocchio.

  He waited with the others at the bottom of the tower of bones, not speaking or rejoicing that they were going home, but simply huddling together around the fire in Cinnabar’s hand. Geppetto put his arm around Pinocchio, and he nestled against his father.

  “We’re finally together,” Pinocchio whispered.

  Geppetto smiled down at him. “Yes, we are. You were so brave, my son. I’m proud of you.”

  Pinocchio leaned closer into his father. “Do you think Lazuli’s all right?”

  “It’ll be hard for her,” Geppetto said softly. “She will need us. But she’ll get through. When a loved one has reached the end of a rich, full life, no matter how much you might miss them, you know the time is right.”

  Pinocchio found himself thinking about Geppetto’s son, Alberto. His life had been cut tragically short. And at the time, Pinocchio had imagined that death was a terrible thing. But he could see now that for someone like Prester John, death might not be something to be dreaded.

  At last, the light in the top of the tower went out. Lazuli floated down to them, holding her father’s crown.

  “I’m ready,” she said, wiping the back of her hand across her cheeks.

  “So what now?” Mezmer said. “How do we get out of here?”

  “The doge’s ship,” Pinocchio said. “We’ll fly out.”

  “But how will we get out of the Deep One?” Sop asked.

  “I’ll command her to release us,” Pinocchio said.

  Sop’s ears flickered. “What exactly does release us entail?”

  Pinocchio shrugged. “I guess she’ll just spit us out.”

  As Cinnabar followed the others, he looked like he was seriously considering moving in with Gragl’s family.

  They journeyed from the prester’s tower of bones, back past the dirt-born settlements—which fortunately were quiet—while Lazuli told Pinocchio what had happened with the doge.

  “Good ol’ Gragl!” Pinocchio said proudly. Gragl flashed him a smile. “But why didn’t Captain Toro take the Pearl when he had the chance?”

  “Maybe he thought it was more important to save the doge?” Mezmer offered.

  “Or,” Sop said, narrowing his lone eye, “that cowardly airman was afraid the doge would make his escape without him.”

  “I don’t think so,” Pinocchio said. “Captain Toro wasn’t cowardly. Maybe Mezmer was right.”

  Lazuli shook her head. “I’m just not sure. He had such an…odd look on his face. Like he couldn’t bring himself to do that to you, Pinocchio.”

  “What does he care about me? As far as Toro was concerned, I was finished at that point.”

  “True,” Lazuli said. “But I wonder if he thought he owed you something. You did bring him back to life at the river.”

  “Only after I drowned him first!” Pinocchio said.

  “Still, you didn’t have to save him.” Lazuli shrugged. “But you did anyway.”

  Pinocchio blinked in wonderment. He supposed he’d never really know for sure why the captain hadn’t followed the doge’s orders and taken the Pearl.

  “Who cares?” Sop said with a lash of his tail. “Toro will have all the time in the world to explain it to the doge as they get nice and cozy in their new home down here.”

  “We just have to hope they haven’t taken back over their ship,” Maestro chirped.

  Pinocchio breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the doge’s grand ship and found it still empty. Gragl’s people supplied them with food and water for the journey before clustering around to say their good-byes.

  “Thank you, Gragl,” Pinocchio said. He bent down to give her a hug, and she pulled him in tight, shells poking against him. He was glad he was still wood and endured it politely until she scampered shyly back to her family.

  “I’ll miss you,” she called.

  “I’ll miss you, too,” Pinocchio said, and realized with a grin that he really meant it.

  One by one, the others boarded the ship.

  “Well, King Pinocchio,” Lazuli said with a smirk before they climbed the chain. “Are you ready to see your realm?”

  “Don’t call me that,” he said. “I don’t feel like a king.”

  “And I don’t feel like a queen,” she said. “Promise you won’t treat me like one. Promise we’ll be friends no matter what.”

  Lazuli was his friend. And he was glad for it. He gave her a nod.

  He looked down at Wiq’s loop of jasmine around his wrist. He would keep his promise to that friend too. When he got to Abaton, he would find a way to free Wiq and all the enslaved Abatonians. He silently swore he would do whatever it took to bring Wiq to Abaton.

  Pinocchio clambered up the chain after Lazuli. Gragl’s people unhooked the anchor and then hurried back toward their caves, waving enthusiastically. Pinocchio waved back as their ship slowly floated higher.

  “Lady Mezmer, knight of the restored Celestial Brigade, will you sail our ship?” Lazuli asked.

  Mezmer hurried to the helm, her tall ears flicking proudly. “All ready?”

  “Ready!” Pinocchio and Lazuli said together, and then gave each other funny looks. Pinocchio chuckled. Having two presters in charge was going to take some getting used to.

  Sop double-checked the sail lines and gave a salute.

  Geppetto tapped the lid of a barrel. “Cinnabar is secured.”

  His muffled voice came through the lid, “You’re sure I’ll be dry in here?”

  “The barrel is lined with naiad scales,” Geppetto said. “Even if the wood cracks, there’s a film that will keep water—”

  “All right, all right,” Lazuli said. “Yes, Cinnabar, you’ll be dry.”

  Geppetto gave a laugh and nudged Pinocchio forward. “Lead us home, son.”

  Pinocchio swallowed hard. He stepped to the bow of the ship. How exactly was he going to command the colossal monster to spit them out? He touched his chest and felt his heart beating fast. He must already be transforming back into flesh, little by little. He wasn’t sure exactly how long it would take, but he certainly hoped the wood would all be gone by the time they reached Abaton. He didn’t want his subjects to know their new prester had ever been an automa.

  Abaton. There was so much about the notion that scared him. He couldn’t worry about that yet. He had to focus on getting them out of here.

  He cleared his throat and said, “Maestro, some music, please.”

  “Of course,” the cricket said, flexing his wings. He began playing Pinocchio’s favorite part of “Orpheus.”

  Pinocchio held up his hands tentatively. “Um, Deep One…Mother, Queen of Oceans, I command you to release us!”

  Nothing happened. The others gave him worried looks. A cold chill ran through Pinocchio, and he began to lower his hands, worrying that—

  A deep groan began, followed by the thunderous sound of the ocean rushing in. Blinding light filled the cavernous space. The mountain of water swirled around until it rose high enough to lift the floating ship. Briny, cyclonic wind blasted from the depths of the monster.

  The wind hit the sails hard, pushing the boat forward so fast that they were all knocked off their feet. All except for Mezmer, who held the wheel and howled, “Hold on, my darlings!”

  The rushing wave and bellowing wind shot the ship past the massive teeth of the Deep One, straight out into a tropical blue sky. The ship rocked side to side among the clouds until the sails billowed and caught the wind.

  Pinocchio stood, facing the south with the warm sun in his face and the turquoise ocean stretching into the distance. Geppetto put his arm around him, giving him an excited squeeze. One by one, the others gathered around them, staring out to the horizon, each hoping to be the first to set eyes on the enchanted island realm.

  What lay ahead? Pinocchio wasn’t sure. But he was glad for his companions, glad for his f
amily, glad they were going home.

  “TO ABATON!” Pinocchio roared.

  The others cheered, their voices together as one. “TO ABATON!”

  ABATON. An island in the uncharted reaches of the southern Indian Ocean, ruled by the immortal magician-king Prester John. While legends circulated for many centuries prior, Abaton was not discovered until the late thirteenth century by the merchant Marco Polo, although how Polo passed the Deep One to reach Abaton is the subject of much historical debate. Abaton has no human inhabitants, and very few humans have ever set foot on the island. All magic now found around the known world originates from Abaton and its elementals.

  ABATONIAN DIASPORA. Abatonians who emigrated to the humanlands after trade began with Abaton. Most of the Abatonian diaspora are elementals and chimera, but a few human kingdoms have allowed other species to enter, often with dangerous consequences.

  ABATONIANS. The nonhuman races of creatures native to the island kingdom of Abaton. Many (e.g., elementals and chimera) are humanoid. Others include talking animals as well as a great menagerie of monstrous species. Elemental and chimera Abatonians now live in nearly all human kingdoms around the world (see Abatonian diaspora), although only in the Venetian Empire are Abatonians regarded as a slave class.

  AIRMEN, IMPERIAL. A division of soldiers in the Venetian Empire’s military. In addition to long-range muskets and weightless armor, airmen are issued mechanical wings originally designed by the renowned alchemist Leonardo da Vinci.

  ALCHEMIST. A practitioner of alchemy. As humans, alchemists possess no natural magical powers over the elements, so they must work with elemental assistants to manufacture their alchemical designs using the laws of transmutation. Alchemists are able to integrate the various elemental powers in order to give technology extraordinary new functions. A rare few of the most talented alchemists have learned to use minor elemental beings (e.g., salamanders) to perform alchemy without the assistance of a major elemental.

  ALCHEMY. A branch of human science devoted to engineering and design based on the transmutation of materials into magical states using elemental powers. Alchemical technology is almost exclusively found in the Venetian Empire, which closely guards the secrets of its workings.