The Gorgon's Blood Solution

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “For that much money, we should at least get some good wine,” Mirra said in a low voice.

  When the waiter came back to bring them each a small plate with a loaf of bread, she spoke up. “I’d like a different wine,” the girl told the waiter.

  “Is this wine bad?” he asked politely.

  “It’s too bitter. We’d like something sweeter,” she replied.

  The waiter stood over them, seeming to evaluate them as he considered his wine selections. “Let me see what I can find,” he told her, and left the table.

  They ate their loaves of bread, enjoying the light, fluffy texture that was so different from the thick, hearty breads they were used to.

  “Would you like to try this wine?” the waiter asked, as he returned with two glasses and a bottle of wine.

  He poured a small amount of wine into the glass for Marco, who looked at it, then comprehended that he was supposed to taste it. The new wine was much more palatable he thought. It was much sweeter and fruity. “Here Mirra, see if you like it?” he pushed the small amount in the glass towards his friend.

  “I like that much better!” she said brightly, and the waiter immediately poured generous portions of the wine into the two glasses, then whisked the other wine glasses away from the table. They began to drink their glasses of wine freely, as new samples of food were served to them on a series of plates that came one at a time.

  “Marco, this tastes like my mother’s cooking!” Mirra said after receiving a seasoned portion of vegetables. “She used to use these same spices on our meals. She was a cook, a very good cook.”

  “What happened to her?” Marco asked.

  “When I became pregnant, we argued a lot. She didn’t understand, and I didn’t want to tell her. I moved out and moved in with my brother, and I haven’t seen her since, for almost a year now,” Mirra said as she took another drink of wine.

  “What does she look like?” Marco asked, thinking of the large, cheery woman who had given him the extra food when he had stood at the door, begging for something to eat.

  “Well, she likes her own cooking. She eats a lot. She’s big,” Mirra over-explained, as she drank more wine.

  A waiter brought another set of dishes, this one containing small, baked pastries.

  “Is it dessert time already?” Marco asked Mirra. “If the meal is over, maybe we should go see if your mother is the cook here.”

  “Oh don’t be silly,” Mirra giggled. “She works in taverns, not in fancy places like this.

  “But, okay, we can go,” she immediately changed her mind, and stood up.

  Marco stood too, and the pair of them began to walk unsteadily towards the back of the restaurant, weaving among the tables to reach the kitchen doors.

  “Maybe we better not,” Mirra faltered as they stood by the door. “What if she really is here? What would I say?”

  “You ought to see,” Marco urged her. He held the door open, and waited to see if she would go in.

  She stood in a long moment of confusion, then cautiously stepped into the kitchen, followed by Marco. As soon as they entered they had to step aside, while a waiter went through the door carrying plates of food. The kitchen was a busy place, as dishes were washed on one side, while food was prepared on the other, and assembly of plates and drinks took place between.

  “That’s her!” Mirra exclaimed, grabbing Marco’s arm in a tight grasp, so intense that he looked down to see if her nails were drawing blood. “I can’t do it,” she said, as she stood transfixed, her eyes staring at the large woman who hovered behind three cooks, talking to each, touching up their products a bit.

  “I can’t go see her. I don’t know what to say,” Mirra repeated as she stood in place.

  Her mother turned at that moment, and stared at the pair of interlopers who were strangers within her kitchen domain. He gaze traveled on past them then, but suddenly returned, and she took a faltering step towards them.

  The cook took another step and another.

  “Mirra? Is that you?” she asked as she approached.

  “Momma, it’s me,” Mirra replied. She released her grip on Marco and flew over to the woman, then the pair of them grabbed each other in a long, teary hug.

  “Look at how beautiful you are,” the mother said as they broke their hug. “Why are you here? Is everything okay? Is your brother okay?

  “Did you, did you have a baby? Is that okay?” the cook asked.

  “Everyone’s fine momma. I am, Glaze is, baby Sybele is fine. Are you okay?” Mirra asked.

  “I have missed you so much, my child,” the cook cried, then hugged Mirra again. “Your baby?” she asked.

  “She’s a girl, a sweet little girl. Six months old almost. Healthy, well healthy now, thanks to Marco,” Mirra motioned to where Marco remained standing near the door. She waved her hand and motioned for him to come over.

  “Momma, this is Marco. He’s an alchemist. He cured Sybele when no one else could, and he brought me here for supper tonight,” Mirra said.

  “Coozie!” someone called.

  The cook looked over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back,” she said, then went to look at a stove top, and deftly helped finish a dish that needed treatment.

  “Why are you here?” she asked when she came back over.

  “We thought you might work here,” Marco answered. “You gave me a handout a few days ago when I was begging at the back door, and Mirra and I thought you could be her mother.”

  “You were a beggar a few days ago, and now you’re bringing this beautiful girl here for dinner? That doesn’t seem realistic,” the cook said skeptically, just as there was another call for her attention.

  “She’s busy,” Mirra whispered to Marco.

  “Can I bring Sybele to come see you tomorrow, momma?” Mirra asked when her mother returned. “You seem busy.”

  “Can you come tomorrow morning? Can you meet me here?” the cook asked.

  “I will. Right after I fix Marco’s breakfast I’ll bring Sybele over and show her to you,” Mirra promised.

  “You’re so beautiful,” the cook said as she looked at her. They squeezed one another in one more hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, and then returned to the stove to handle a boiling pot.

  Marco and Mirra left the kitchen and walked through the inn, then out into the fresh air of the square.

  “Marco!” Mirra exclaimed. “It’s her!”

  “She’s happy to see you,” he told the girl, wanting to reinforce her happiness.

  “She was,” Mirra agreed, as they began to walk back towards their part of town. “She wants to see Sybele!

  “I’m too excited to go to bed now! Take me down and show me where you go swimming,” the girl begged Marco.

  He looked at her in the glimmering torch light along the street, aided by the glow of a crescent moon that was straight overhead.

  “Alright, we’ll go to the docks,” he agreed, and they wandered along the streets in the direction of the waterfront, then out to the end of the dock where Marco always met Kieweeooee. “This is where I come to go swimming,” he told her.

  “Shall we go in?” Mirra asked. She looked at him with an arch expression on her face, then sat and removed her shoes.

  “You want to go swimming? Now?” Marco asked in surprise.

  He watched as she stepped down, then suddenly slipped her dress up over her head and disappeared out of sight. There was a splash a split second later, and then a small shriek.

  Marco hastily stripped his own clothes off and dove into the water. He saw a pale blur nearby, and started to swim towards it. “Mirra, is that you?” he asked.

  “Catch me if you can!” the girl’s voice came back through the dark air, and then there was a splashing cacophony as she began to try to evade him.

  He laughed at the challenge. Having lived in the Lion City, he’d swum in the canals of the city on a regular basis, and his swimming skills had stayed sharp with all the swimming he’s done
with Kieweeooee in recent days.

  He felt a sudden bump beneath him, a thrust that send him flipping upward, and as he splashed back downwards, landing in the water on his back, he heard the slapping of a dolphin’s fins upon the surface of the harbor waters, as Kieweeooee laughed at her prank.

  “Kieweeooee!” he laughed. He pressed his face into the water. “I am swimming here with a friend with legs,” he told the dolphin.

  “Is the one with legs a boy or a girl?” Kieweeooee asked.

  “She is a girl,” Marco affirmed as he heard Mirra’s splashing strokes grow more distant.

  “Will she be your mate? Will you have little ones with legs with this one, instead of mermaids with me?” the dolphin splashed her fins again, pleased with her joke.

  “Marco!” there was a different tone in Mirra’s voice. “I have a cramp! Help!”

  “She needs help; she cannot swim well,” Marco told Kieweeooee, as he began to stroke towards the direction of Mirra’s voice.

  He heard the dolphin say something as he began to stroke ferociously, and seconds later he heard Mirra scream hysterically. He continued to swim, and Mirra shouted again, then again, more softly each time.

  “Marco, what’s happening?” he heard her speak in a calm tone, and her voice was very near. He saw a pale blur once more, next to a different blur, and he realized that Kieweeooee had rushed to the girl’s aid.

  “I’m here,” he told Mirra as he reached the pair in the water. He wrapped an arm around her. She was bent up, her arms reaching down to her leg.

  “I have a cramp in my leg,” she moaned. “I can’t swim. It hurts, and that fish was bumping me.”

  Kieweeooee had backed slightly away.

  “Just float,” Marco urged her. “Try to float on your back. I’ll hold you.”

  “Help me Marco,” she pleaded.

  “I’m here,” he repeated. He treaded water and kept an arm around her. “Can you float on your back? I can pull you back to the dock if you can float,” he urged her.

  She seemed to hear and understand him that time. He felt her body shift. He kept an arm beneath her, as she stretched out, releasing one arm’s grasp on her cramped leg muscle.

  A part of Marco’s mind was keenly aware of the glistening wet flesh of her body, dimly lit by the moonlight over the harbor. She was long and lithe and tempting, a promise of fulfilled desires that he had never known before.

  Yet at the same time, his mind was strangely drawn to wonder about the comparative features of Porenn, the girl he had walked downhill with on the Isle of Ophiuchus.

  And another part of his mind was evaluating the practical question of how to maneuver Mirra back to the dock. The wine they had drank at the tavern had clouded his mind, but the water and the situation were sobering him up fast.

  He placed his face down in the water. “Kieweeooee, can you pull me back to the place where I leave the water? If you pull me, I will pull this girl who cannot swim,” he requested.

  “Are you talking to that fish?” Mirra asked. “Did you tell it to come save me?”

  Kieweeooee came gliding up alongside Marco, and as he grabbed her dorsal fin she began to move smoothly through the water.

  “Is this one always wounded? She would not make a good mate if her wounds are severe, unless you love her very much,” the dolphin said.

  “She is not normally wounded. This is unusual,” Marco said, as he looked up and saw the lights of the city draw close. “I do not seek to be her mate, however,” he told his friend, and as he said it, he realized it was true.

  “What did you just say to it?” Mirra asked.

  “I told her that you are not normally hurt. She wanted to know if this was unusual,” Marco answered, as they reached the dock.

  “How is your cramp? Will you be able to climb up to the top of the dock?” he asked.

  She shifted in the water, and he felt her body roll across his hand, his fingers touching the soft flesh with an intimacy that embarrassed him, and he jerked his hand away, as he saw her grab hold of the pier ladder.

  “We will leave the water now, Kieweeooee. Thank you for being our hero tonight,” he told his finned friend.

  “Kieweeooee is glad to help the friend of a friend,” the dolphin answered, and then swam away.

  Marco helped Mirra climb up the ladder, carefully pushing upward beneath her as her wounded leg struggled to mount the rungs. When they were both on the surface of the dock, they pulled their clothes on over their wet bodies, the cloth clinging to them in a way that revealed much of their build.

  “I can’t believe you come here every night to swim with a fish!” Mirra said as they sat down at the edge of the pier. She raised her leg and laid it across Marco’s lap, and they both began to massage the muscles in her thigh.

  “I thought you snuck out every night to see a girl, or more than one. I imagined that maybe you went over to see the women who look at you every morning,” she admitted with a smile. “That’s why I was,” she paused, but did not finish.

  “Was what?” he asked.

  “I thought that if you were that popular with girls, I was pleased that you wanted to go out with me,” she told him, revealing the fragility of her ego. “Even though I thought I knew how this evening was going to end, it made me feel good to know that you thought I was attractive.”

  Marco looked at her. He couldn’t imagine that a girl as lovely as Mirra now was could have any regard for his opinion. Certainly no girls in the Lion City had ever cared about him, and he shook his head slightly at the notion of such different perceptions.

  “Let me tell you Mirra,” the fingers of one hand came to rest beneath her chin, directing her gaze towards him, while his other hand continued to bump against her hands as they rubbed the flesh of her leg. “Let me tell you, that you are a beautiful girl. Men will flock to you to seek your attention. I’m lucky to be able to have a girl as pretty as you for a friend. Back in the Lion City, someone like you wouldn’t even notice someone like me, believe me,” he told her.

  They stared at one another, and despite the comment he had made to Kieweeooee, saying that he did not seek to mate with Mirra, he felt a strong sense of devotion and compassion and attraction for the girl, who did not know what an alluring person she was.

  “This is a pier, not a bedroom,” a harsh voice startled them both. Marco looked up to see a watchman walking towards them. “You two need to move along,” he said.

  Marco stood, and held Mirra’s hands to help her up.

  “Let me walk you home. It’s getting late,” Marco said as they left the pier and returned to the city environs. She held his arm as she continued to experience a slight limp from her cramping leg.

  Mirra looked at him questioningly.

  “I think it’s the right thing for tonight,” Marco said gently. “I invited you as a friend, and,” he didn’t know how to express his mounting confusion. “I didn’t know, I don’t know if there’s more than that yet.”

  “That’s alright. I may be happiest thinking that you invited me as a friend,” she gave a shy smile, and they continued to walk.

  “How did you meet the fish and learn to talk to her?” Mirra asked after they travel a block in silence.

  “Her name is Kieweeooee,” Marco answered. “She helped rescue me after I was a castaway. Another friend knew how to speak to the dolphins, and taught me a few words. I don’t speak very well, but Kieweeooee and I get along pretty well. She’s a good friend, like tonight when she came to play and helped rescue you.”

  “I am going to wake up soon,” Mirra said. She comfortably laid her head upon Marco’s shoulder. “And my complexion will be the same as it ever was, and no one will have ever heard of a great alchemist named Marco, I’ll live with my baby and my brother in our little room, and everyone will laugh at my dream about a boy talking to dolphins. But for this moment, tonight, this is the most wonderful moment of life I can dream!”

  “Or maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow as a bea
utiful princess in a castle, and you’ll wonder why you ever dreamed about wasting your time with an ordinary street boy who didn’t deserve to spend so much time with you,” Marco flipped her story over, as they turned down a narrow street, approaching the slum section of the city in which she lived.

  She looked up at him, and their eyes met and widened as they looked at one another, both nervously knowing what was about to happen next. They stopped walking, and their bodies wordlessly turned to face one another. Marco felt his jaw quiver with both fear and excitement as he looked into Mirra’s lovely face, and then he closed his eyes and bent his head lower. His lips touched hers, and their soft texture enthralled him.

  And then he heard a soft slipping noise. His hand seemed to come alive; his fingers seemed to have heard the sound before his ears even did, because his hand ceased its exploratory caress of Mirra’s back, and flew to his hip, where the fingers of his hand grasped the handle of his sword and whipped it free from its confinement in its scabbard. His other hand reached all the way around Mirra’s back to reach her far shoulder, and he rapidly spun her lips away from his own and swung her around to stand behind him, making her squeak in shock at the sudden turn of events.

  Even as his own body was dramatically reacting to a small noise, he opened his eyes and saw a pair of cutthroats with knives approaching him, sneaking up on the pair of pedestrian lovers who the thieves had expected to stab and rob without effort. To their shock, instead they found Marco’s sword point suddenly just a foot in front of them, stabbing at their thighs – stabbing and piercing both men in the flesh. The two robbers suddenly howled in pain and shock as they fell to the ground, and Mirra began to comprehend what was happening, making her shudder as she pressed her body against Marco’s back.

  Marco stood over the pair of robbers, taking a step forward and holding the point of his sword down so that it hovered over the fearful faces of the two thugs.

  “Take your hands off your knives, and let the blades rest on the paving stones,” Marco ordered the two men.

  They both instantly complied.

  “Do you want me to take the knives?” Mirra asked.

  “Yes, pick them up,” Marco responded, and watched as the girl quickly darted in and picked the two knives away from the unsuccessful assailants. She paused as she bent low to pick up their weapons.