Stavius hopped off Bernice’s back, and she led him over to the lunch line. He saw that Janus was already eating, but refusing to look at him.
“Eat heartily, Stavius,” advised Bernice. “Midday is when we eat our largest meal here. After this there is nothing but horse food until tomorrow’s lunch and, say what you will about satyrs, they are excellent chefs who love their food.”
The aroma coming from the outdoor kitchen confirmed Bernice’s assessment and Stavius’ mouth salivated as he realized that he hadn’t eaten in days. There were several kinds of bread, pesto, tapenades, stuffed grape leaves, pasta, grilled vegetables, and a wide variety of other dishes which seemed to be of Mediterranean origin. Stavius and Bernice loaded up heaping plates of food and brought them to one of the dual-height tables at the edge of the dais.
Bernice offered to get them some drinks while Stavius waited at the table and began sampling the food and looking around the pavilion. Everyone seemed to be staring at him, but he was getting used to that behavior here in Equous. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on because the satyrs were speaking a language he did not understand. Not wanting to be rude and stare at his hosts, Stavius began studying the pavilion more carefully. Everything was made of wood, and the columns were not actually carved, but rather, wrapped with thick grape vines. He realized that the green roof he had seen from a distance was actually the grape leaves. Large bunches of grapes hung from the rafters while bees and butterflies flitted among them.
The tables, however, were intricately crafted. Each leg was carved to mimic the grape vines, while the tabletops were etched with detailed scenes of satyrs dancing, playing flutes, and generally cavorting among grapes and grape leaves. Stavius was marveling at the alluring effect of all this nature and greenery when he espied a different table near the center of the dais. It wasn’t precisely in the center of the room, and it didn’t appear to be dramatically different than the rest, but Stavius was drawn to it. No one was sitting at it, so he walked over to it and had extended his hand to touch it when he heard Bernice yell, “No, Stavius! Get away from there!”
Stavius froze and noticed a rumbling which almost sounded like rolling thunder, except that it was coming from all around him. He looked up and saw every satyr in the room staring at him and quivering.
Satyrs have an unusual nervous tick when they get agitated. They begin to step from hoof to hoof anxiously, and this action becomes faster and faster the longer they are stressed until they drop their heads and leap forward towards their perceived threat. Stavius didn’t know this fact yet, but the sound of a hundred hooves beating a drum tattoo on the wooden floor clearly indicated danger.
“Enough!” bellowed a gruff voice from nearby.
The stomping quickly died down, although it threatened to roar back into full force once or twice as a nervous satyr’s hoof uncontrollably tapped the wooden floor. An older satyr wearing the most hideously bright yellow shirt Stavius had ever seen approached him and angrily glared at everyone in the room until there was silence.
“Human, you not taught laws of our village like should be,” he began with a deathly look towards Bernice. “This table only for village elders and their guests. No others ever allowed to sit or touch.”
He said no more and stared at Stavius with a bright red face, flushed with anger.
“I’m sorry sir,” stammered Stavius as he began backing away. “I had no idea. I appreciate your hospitality and will just quietly eat my meal and leave as quickly as possible.”
“You no do any such thing!” roared the satyr with his thick, broken accent. This caused the whole room to begin drumming again. “Silence!” he bellowed and, once again, waited until the room was quiet.
“First you tell me why you so interested in this table, human,” demanded the satyr in a most threatening tone.
“Um, because it is beautiful,” answered Stavius without hesitation.
“Nonsense!” roared the satyr. “This table look no different than rest. Tell truth!”
“I know, I mean it is, I mean, yes, they all look the same, but this one looks different,” insisted Stavius. He realized that his comment didn’t make any sense and took a deep breath before his second attempt.
“All of your tables, including this one, are illuded with the same image,” he began. “However, this one really is carved. It isn’t just an illusion. This is a beautifully carved table; unlike anything I have ever seen.”
“And how you know this?” the satyr suspiciously asked.
“Because I can see through illusions,” replied Stavius, unsure whether he should be sharing this secret ability.
“I see,” answered the satyr. “Say I believe you, which I may not, why you so interested? Are you searching for its secrets?”
“No!” Stavius quickly answered. “I didn’t know that it had any secrets. I’m simply interested because it is so beautiful and real. There are many wondrous creations in this world, but nearly all have been created using magic. Someone with a lot of skill and patience built this table, and it is amazing.”
Stavius paused and looked around. “In fact, everything in this pavilion has been built and not just magically created. Your clothes are real, and you are even really cooking your food instead just magically preparing it. Everything here has been created by hand. Although nothing else is as exquisite as this table.”
Mark had been amazed by magic ever since he arrived on Mearth and so had Staven once Stavius was able to see illusions and throw some lightning bolts. It was an odd sensation to be so impressed by things which were not created by magic. All of this took skill and hard work to accomplish, and Stavius was taken aback with awe.
The satyr studied Stavius for several moments before leaning back and erupting in a hearty laugh. “Young man, you change mind after finishing meal. Nothing more exquisite than Staryan’s cooking!” He carefully elongated the word “exquisite” as he said it. “Go join centaur friend for lunch, and Bernice, bring these two here tonight!”
The satyrs resumed their lunch but still kept a watchful eye on Stavius as he rejoined Bernice at their table. She softly commanded him, “Stavius, do not ever do anything like that ever again. We were both nearly lynched.”
Stavius and Bernice wolfed down their lunches in an attempt to get away from the satyrs as quickly as possible. That was, however, difficult because the food really was exquisitely prepared. The raw ingredients were delicious because satyrs farmed along the edge of Equous where the magical force was weakest, just like the farms where Staven had lived. The cooking, however, was all done by chefs instead of by magic. The Mark half of Stavius compared the experience to eating a homemade meal made from scratch instead of one microwaved from a box. It was that good.
Still, they managed to finish their lunch long before anyone else was done. Bernice rounded up Janus and convinced him to leave with them. The three travelers had only walked about a quarter of a mile when a young, hornless unicorn galloped up to inform them that the queen wanted to meet them.
Janus began to complain that his belly was far too full and Stavius was saying that he needed a nap when Bernice interrupted to assure their messenger that they would be at the palace as soon as possible. Bernice hissed at the boys as the unicorn dashed off to inform the queen, “You do not refuse an audience with the queen, boys.”
Stavius grimaced and glanced at Janus, who immediately belched and said, “Lead on, Bernice.” The three altered their course to follow the rapidly vanishing unicorn.
Chapter 14
Satyrsday Night
The royal palace was beautiful. It had a delicate, lattice roof supported by tall, slender columns, which looked like tree trunks. The entire structure was pure white and covered a large area of gently undulating grass. There were walls, which formed a maze of smaller rooms, but the unicorns clearly preferred open-air shelters over fully-enclosed structures. The throne, if you could call it that, consisted of a large, straw-filled area at the top of a slight, cen
tral hill. There was something about the space created by the architecture that generated a feeling of peace, tranquility, and awe. It was inviting but demanded respect.
A pair of stern unicorns with long, glowing horns guided them to the throne room and invited them to wait, before retreating to the shadows at the edges. A smaller, much friendlier unicorn without a horn approached and welcomed them to the palace.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen and Bernice,” began the unicorn. “I hope that your stay with us has been enjoyable thus far. The queen will be here shortly, but in the meantime, is there anything I could get you to eat or drink, or any questions I could answer?”
“I think we’re fine concerning food,” answered Janus with a pat to his belly.
“I have a question if you don’t mind,” said Stavius. “I don’t know much about unicorns, but I notice that the men are all considerably smaller than the women.”
Bernice slapped her hand against her head and started to say, “Let me apologize for the boy, he…”
Before he could complete his thought, however, they all felt the sensation of surprise as the unicorn gently said, “Male unicorns are called stallions and females are called mares, young man. Why would you say that the stallions are smaller than the mares?”
Stavius was horribly embarrassed but had to answer, so he explained, “Well, all the unicorns like you who don’t have horns are much smaller than the mares who do.”
They all felt a surge of warm laughter as the unicorn said, “Stavius, there are no stallions here. The unicorns without horns here are foals or yearlings.”
Seeing the two boys’ confusion, she continued. “Unicorns are hornless and genderless until their second birthday. Stallions and mares do not live together, and for the first year of our lives, foals live here with our mothers. Yearlings live with their fathers for the second year of their lives and return here in the spring of their second birthday. Every May there is a promulgation ceremony where every yearling proclaims his or her gender. Those who become fillies stay here and develop horns while the colts leave to live with their fathers and develop male genitalia.”
The two boys stared at the unicorn agape until Stavius incredulously asked, “So you get to choose your gender?”
“No,” disagreed Janus. “I don’t think they choose. I think what happens is that they realize their gender and embrace it.”
“Exactly, Janus,” said the unicorn. “My name is Elona, and I am a filly. My horn is only a bump, but it will be pretty obvious by my next birthday. They rapidly grow for the first two years and then slow down after that, although a unicorn’s horn will continue to grow through her entire life.”
Stavius’ mind was filled with new questions about stallions and why they didn’t live with the mares, but he didn’t get to ask before the queen arrived.
Elona bent her front knees to kneel and bow her head as a chestnut brown unicorn with a long, blonde mane and tail, and the longest horn Stavius had ever seen, entered the room. The boys and Bernice quickly bowed as well and didn’t look up again until they heard her say, “Rise friends of Equous. Any humans who willingly risk their lives to save a dear friend of mine are welcome here.”
“Thank you, your Majesty,” answered Bernice, as she rose. “May I please introduce Stavius and Janus. They are two of the Prophecy Heroes.”
“My understanding of human ways is limited, but is it not odd for one of the Prophecy Heroes to be named Janus,” asked the queen.
“Yes, it is,” replied Bernice, “but these are no ordinary heroes. I believe that they might be the ones to fulfill the prophecy.”
“That is strong praise, Captain,” answered the queen. “You have been observing these prophecy attempts for several centuries and have never made such a comment. I hope you are right and I wish you well.”
Stavius and Janus both felt a warm glow of pleasure. It almost seemed as though this magnificent creature could radiate love and the boys wanted to please her more than anything else. Neither had ever met a royal figure before, and both were astounded by her grace and bearing.
“Thank you, Your Majesty, you are too kind,” Stavius finally managed to croak out. He was so choked up with emotion that he could barely speak when she looked at him. He had only ever seen unicorns from a distance but something about her face, other than the long horn protruding from her forehead, made her look more human than equine. He couldn’t quite place what it was, but it made him feel completely at ease around her.
“Nonsense, you have earned this praise,” the queen assured them. “Please call me Queen Esthara, and tell me what I can do to help you.”
Both Stavius and Janus were too overwhelmed to form an answer, so Bernice made a request for them. “These two need to get to Septumcolis as quickly as possible. Their compatriots are due to be executed during Luna Fest, and they must arrive in time to rescue them. I am too slow and still too weak to carry them that distance in time. Can you arrange transport for them?”
“That is a noble cause, and I am sure we can help you,” Queen Esthara replied. “Is there anything else?”
“Um, I am still pretty drained from my ordeal,” said Stavius. “Do you know of any way to reenergize me more quickly?”
“And is there any way we could reenergize these stones?” asked Janus as he pulled the two dragon stones out of his pocket.
The unicorn guards immediately stiffened as the queen and Elona drew back in horror.
“Put those away, young man, and never bring such disgusting objects near me again!” commanded the queen.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Janus quickly replied as he stuffed the rocks back into his pockets. “What did I do wrong?”
“Do you know what those are, young man?” asked the queen after the rocks were safely out of sight.
“I thought they were special rocks that hold magical charges. They were given to us to help us survive our journey,” Janus answered in a shaky voice. A sensation of fear, disgust and downright revulsion saturated the room.
“Those are called gastroliths, Janus,” Queen Esthara lectured. “They do retain magical energy, much like our horns; however, they come from dragons. Dragons are unable to chew their food, so they swallow stones to grind what they eat in their gizzards. Over time these stones become smooth and saturated with magical energy absorbed from the dragon.”
Stavius’ belly began to feel pains of nausea as he began to sense where Queen Esthara’s lesson was heading. He always tried to avoid killing dragons but had been forced to slay one or two in his prior occupation. The gastroliths in a five-foot-tall chigon ranged from pea-sized to small gravel. These were the size of their fists.
“The gastroliths you just showed me were from an enormous dragon,” Esthara continued. “And, while they might have been collected after that dragon died from old age, it is far more likely that the dragon was slaughtered so that those stones could be harvested. That sort of sickening, barbaric, human behavior is one reason we stay as far away from your species as possible.”
“I am so very sorry,” cried Janus. “I had no idea of their source. I thought they were simply some sort of polished river stones imbued with magical energy. I’ll dispose of them immediately.”
“You will do no such thing,” insisted the queen with a terrible forcefulness in her thought. “You will take those disgusting objects far from our domain and never bring them back. I will help you on your journey, but you must leave Equous at first light tomorrow. Appear at the north gate at dawn and take those infernal objects with you.”
With that, the queen rose, turned her back on the three of them, and quickly strode out of the room with Elona following close behind.
The two guards escorted the three travelers out of the palace while Janus kept muttering, “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I had no idea what these were.”
Bernice escorted the boys back to where Stavius had awakened this morning. She advised them to take a nap because they were going to be staying up late tonig
ht and would need to arise early in the morning. Stavius suggested that they should skip the satyrs’ festivities, but Bernice assured him that this was not an optional request. Bernice then added, “I’ll be back at dusk to walk you over there. Sleep quickly,” before trotting off to tend to other duties.
The boys took her advice and curled up on the soft grass near the spring. Stavius tried to apologize for whatever he had said to offend Janus, but his companion rolled away saying that he didn’t want to talk about it. Stavius’ mind was reeling from everything that had happened today. It seemed as though a week had passed since morning and he had no idea how he was going to nap as he replayed the day’s events in his head. He closed his eyes and evidently succeeded because the next time he opened them he was being gently kicked awake by a centaur.
“Get up you lazy bums,” grumbled Bernice as she gave Janus a similar kick. “Satyrs hate guests who arrive late, and you do not want to see them when they’re in a bad mood.”
Both of the boys would’ve preferred to go back to sleep, but Bernice was insistent. They stood up, splashed some water on their faces, and followed Bernice to the satyrs’ village. The bright glow and loud music emanating from the carved pavilion convinced them that they would not be going back to sleep anytime soon.
The pavilion had been reconfigured since lunchtime and turned into a sort of dance hall. The tall tables around the edges were still there but the tables on the raised platform, except for the special carved one and a few on either side, had been removed. The result was a large, raised, wooden dance floor with a band at one end and a handful of tables at the other. The whole place was illuminated by glowing, color-changing orbs floating amongst the rafters. It looked like a woodland disco populated by goat people, and Stavius chuckled despite himself.
Bernice left the boys at the edge of the dance floor and walked over to the bar to chat with another centaur. The satyrs were ignoring the boys, and Stavius was trying to decide what to do when Janus elbowed him and pointed toward the stage. The old satyr who had chastised them at lunch was sitting at the carved table and waving them over.
Stavius Page 15
