As the mermaid emerged, she began to sing. Inimois could recognize in the mermaid’s song the first serenade Sanquivio had composed for her. And as she kept singing, her notes melded together several of Sanquivio’s serenades, which the princess knew by heart, for her heart had opened up to every single one of them. As her heart swelled, she could not but stand there, gently rocking left and right as a reed in the wind, her eyes and mouth agape, without being able to draw her mind away from the music echoing inside her head. She awoke from this spell only when Sanquivio broke the song—as he spake, the mermaid was silent and dove back into the waters:
“As you can see, my lady, no longer will you need to await the new moon to hear my odes to you. Bring this mermaid to your quarters, and my songs will lull you whenever you please. My words, and therefore my heart, will be by your side till our eyes meet again.”
“This is a most precious gift, and I will cherish it greatly, though it shall never replace your true voice.”
“My lady, perhaps it is not wise,” Amizdel said, for the mermaid’s song had a different effect on him: Pleasant indeed was the feeling, but strange and therefore concerning.
“I see your captain distrusts me still,” Sanquivio replied. “This is a splendid guardian indeed, and you must always keep him by your side, my lady, for then you shall always be safe. But there are times when zeal becomes too inflated and leaves no room for bliss. I shall, however, quench his thirst for trust.”
“How do you propose to do so?”
“You have waited hours till now; let us wait a few hours more. Soon you will hear news of your sentinels stationed at the southwestern part of your wall.”
A thought bolted through Amizdel’s mind, and shivered from his head to his legs. Sanquivio needed not clarify further. The captain already knew. The gate by the Ergon river! It had also been broken when the Dark Beast overthrew the Sphinx of the Club! And though the archway had been almost completely repaired, the bronze grating had not yet been set. While the captain and the princess were distracted at the main gate, this weak point in Ophir’s fortifications was open to invaders!
With the swiftness of a forest deer, Amizdel darted towards the main gate; the crizia shaking and protesting on his shoulders; Sanquivio’s amused laugh behind him. Once inside the walls, Amizdel ordered his guards to raise the drawbridge: He left Inimois in a secure location and went to reinforce his troops to the south.
The drawbridge had not yet started its heaving, there were already sentinels coming from the south, running to Amizdel.
“Hail, oh captain, we bear tidings!”
“Speak soldier, though I can surmise it already! Tell me if the southwestern gate still belongs to us, or if it fell under a most vile and cowardly raid!”
“My captain, it belongs to us still, but why this is so I cannot fathom. Not long ago, a nephilin army came marching along the Ergon. The nephilin approached, and the gate seemed at their mercy. Though our arrows were restless, they were kept inside their quivers by peace treaties which had not yet been broken… and by Aigonz’s grace, remain unbroken still. They marched where they could without setting foot into our territory. Then, they turned around and went about their way.”
From the outside, Sanquivio’s laughter gave rise to a shout:
“Who are those sentinels who came rushing to you, dear captain? Did they come from the southwest, as I foretold? What message do they herald? Am I trustworthy now before your eyes? Will you now accept my humble gift?”
For the first time since he had become captain, Amizdel had been defeated. Not by swords or sheer force, but by cunning. Whether Amizdel trusted Sanquivio, it mattered not. Inimois was furious and demanded that her captain submit:
“Bring Sanquivio’s gift to my palace at once!”
Her guard had no other choice but to obey.
***
During the days that followed, the crizian court saw their princess less and less, as she kept herself shut inside her room, listening to the mermaid’s song. She kept urging the mermaid to sing, even if the creature would grow weary or hoarse. Oftentimes, her guards would be startled in the middle of the night with noises coming from the princess’ room, only to find her dancing atop her bed. Every time, the story would be the same: A dream had awakened her and she had bid the mermaid to lull her back to slumber—but the more the creature sang, the more restless the princess grew, so that she could not stay still any longer, and dance overtook her limbs.
But even as Inimois cherished the mermaid’s song, she cherished Sanquivio’s serenades all the more. The next new moon, she went back to the main gate and awaited her king there. Once again, after the serenade was over, Sanquivio had a gift to offer her: an ochre kitten, another of Moab’s gifts. She accepted, and Amizdel could not stop her.
The following days, Inimois would sit around her room petting the kitten and feeling a hot shiver warming the cockles of her heart. And as her court grew more concerned, the princess grew more impatient and irritable. Only as the new moon came nearer, were her spirits raised once again.
The next new moon, Inimois received the bird of gilded feathers. Whether this had been a gift to the princess or to the bird itself remained to be seen, for it was the bird’s obsession to scour the skies in search of gold and shining objects to build up its nest. Indeed, when the princess arrived at her palace after the serenade, the bird’s beak already carried two pieces of gold leaf snatched from the walls of some house down below. And Inimois was lost in thought about this gift’s usefulness, for the bird could be used to find new sources of gold and expand Ophir even beyond its walls.
But this would not be her only surprise that day. As she arrived at the palace, she found an unexpected visitor sleeping by her doorstep. It was none other than Bilidio, the pontiff in the flesh! He had arrived at Ophir the day before, by sunset, at the time Inimois left her palace to attend Sanquivio’s serenade. Once atop the august Sym-Bolon mountain, the pontiff had lied down by the palace’s door and there he slept, his beard and tunic drenched in night dew, his forehead crowned with morning frost.
She threw herself to the venerable giant’s head, as she tried to shelter him from the cold with the warmth of her arms, and bosom, and lips. But her body was too small to warm a whole giant, let alone to help him rise.
The princess burst into her palace with loud yells, as she rebuked her guard for not offering shelter to such a high dignitary. The poor soldiers were greatly embarrassed and justified themselves saying the pontiff had not accepted any accommodation till he would be received by the crizia herself. In the meantime, Bilidio had already forced himself against the rust inside his knees, leaning against his staff as a pillar.
“Rebuke them not,” said the pontiff, “for they were not the ones who should have received me. Where have you been?”
She was transfixed. Never had she thought her accusing finger would be turned against her. She tried to stammer an answer, and stammered so much that they were already at the throne room when she finished speaking:
“I have been treating with another head of state, our neighbour.”
The pontiff let himself be led to the throne room, not so much because of Inimois’ insistence and hospitality, but because he yearned to see that Amozia was safe.
“And who could this neighbour be, my lady? Could it be Sanquivio, the one who to this day calls himself ‘the new Faris-Romil’?”
Shuddering. Silence. That was answer enough. Fortunately, Bilidio’s concern, which hung in the air for long moments, dissipated as soon as he saw Amozia intact in the middle of the hall. It was as if his legs had remembered the strength of their youth, for Bilidio dashed to the tabernacle and knelt. There he stayed for a few minutes, until he rose again slowly, aged once more.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this most unexpected visit?” she asked, and there seemed to be no pleasure in her voice. Since Bilidio had arrived, she had felt herself scolded for something she did not even know.
“Some of your subjects sent me messages of deep concern and consternation,” the pontiff said, and Amizdel trembled inside his cuirass; but Inimois did not suspect him, for she had many subjects. Bilidio proceeded, “Why do you meet with Sanquivio once a moon?”
“He has been most courteous towards me. The least I can do, in the spirit of diplomatic strengthening of our nation’s bonds, is to heed him.”
“Does your heart flutter? Do you wish those bonds to be so strengthened that both nations would be one?”
Once again, she shuddered and did not answer. No, she had never thought of it… but now that Bilidio mentioned it, it seemed like she had indeed wished for it inside the deepest recesses of her heart. So secret were these depths, she had not even been aware of them.
“I see,” he said, caressing his most long beard. “Have you perchance forgotten your prince, my lady?”
Inimois could no longer contain her annoyance. She could admit that she had wavered in the course of her duties; that she had indulged in juvenile escapades; that she had given herself to dreams that could affect the whole world. Yea, truly, she would gladly face penance for all of that. But this wound cut too deep:
“Perchance my prince forgot me first, oh Bilidio! Where was Livionz when Skillotz sought for my head, and I was besieged by dark forces on all sides, crying for him to come?”
“He did not abandon you, my lady. Remember the tales of our logizkal forebears, Staurinz and Kolezin, the twins! The prince bade them stand on this very same ground, to protect you while you blossomed atop the Sym-Bolon mountain! You were then besieged by monsters, no less darker than the ones you faced now, though you cannot remember them, for you were still gestating at the time.”
“Yea, I remember the story. He went away and left the toil to you.”
“Do not be so hasty in passing judgment, my lady! He did not abandon you, for he did not leave you unattended! The giants were commissioned to ward off the monsters until the day the prince would return. And return he did, and vanquished the monsters with a vengeance. So, if you are still alone and not merrily wed with your prince, my lady, blame Kolezin, for he was the one who failed in his mission. He and his followers were complacent in their fight against the monsters, and for that the Forbidden Lands are poisoned to this day! We, the giants, were the ones who added to your burden, not the prince! He is away to this day, so as to purify the kingdom he seeks to offer you as dowry, for you are imprisoned hither in the northern tip of the world, when all of the world should be yours, oh daughter of Aigonz! His absence is nothing more than him filling the void left behind by the sins of our ancestors!”
“You speak well, but not as well as you fancy. You said, the prince will return when the propitious day comes. But the day indeed came, and the prince was nowhere to be found. The walls were breached, and the prince was nowhere to be found. The invading armies marauded my city, and the prince was nowhere to be found. Know you who saved me on that day? Sanquivio! He was the one who took the sword and rose to my defense! A prince at the time he was, son of a king and most gallant! Perhaps we need to reinterpret the prophecies, for they may refer to another prince! His strength, and his strength alone, was at my service that day!”
“My lady, do you really think it was Sanquivio who saved you, and not Livionz? I believe you have grown too used to his protection, so that you cannot see it anymore. Do you not remember the fearsome Dark Beast, who tore down your walls and threatened to devour you? Did it not look invincible? Who could withstand it? And yet, who slain this most vile beast, in like manner as the monsters of old?”
“The Golden Sphinxes by the bridge, the product of Faris-Romil’s magic.”
“My lady, let me assure you: Faris-Romil is no sorcerer. He does not possess any magic of his own. Nay, the sphinxes draw their strength from Amozia, the memorial the prince left in your palace, so that you would always have a piece of him near you. It was Amozia which gave the Golden Sphinxes the power to trounce the Dark Beast’s might, just as it was Amozia which gave the Rock Sphinxes the power to keep the nephilin at bay for so long a siege. Prince Livionz never abandoned you; he rests by your side to this day, until the day he returns!”
The princess turned slowly towards the ark where Amozia laid. Bilidio walked towards her and let his gentle hand skim through her wild mane:
“Please, do not make the same mistake we did, many generations ago. Stay strong, till the day comes.”
She slowly knelt before the Amozia. Her eyes fixed in the void, overflowing to the brim with tears, but without ever spilling them. The crizia regretted her hasty words, yet still felt torn. Her soul was rent in twain, and there seemed to be no end in sight for this struggle.
The pontiff turned towards the door: His visit had accomplished its goal. But before he left, he required one more assurance:
“My lady, do you remember the admonition I gave you, in this very same throne room, many years ago, when the war was about to begin?”
For the third and final time, she replied with a shudder and a silence. She did not remember. Bilidio nodded and continued:
“I see you have indeed forgotten. Please, bear it engraved in your heart from now on, as an inscription indelibly inscribed in stone: Faris-Romil assured me that these walls will never fall from any assault from without; but threats from within can do what threats from without cannot, and both can form alliances against you! Remain ever steadfast, and ever vigilant!”
***
Inimois stood for many hours before Amozia, sometimes kneeling, sometimes walking around it as she pondered. She kept repeating the pontiff’s final words to herself, so as to engrave them in her heart, and never again forget them. But as night drew near, and she came back to her room, the mermaid started to sing and it was as if Bilidio’s words faded away.
As the days went by, the pontiff’s words seemed to grow more and more distant. Still, she remained firm in her purpose of stepping away from Sanquivio and returning his gifts. In the beginning, though, she had decided that she would no longer attend any of the pharaoh’s serenades, and convey this message through Amizdel or any other herald. But as the moon came closer, the princess yearned to see Sanquivio one last time, so as to give him a proper farewell.
The new moon came, and she went to meet Sanquivio. When she saw him, she could not bring herself to state her resolution. After all, the king had taken the trouble to compose one new song for her; it would be rude not to listen to it, at least. When the serenade was done, and her heart been touched, she could not bear to return the gifts at once. At the time, Sanquivio had a green monkey to offer her. And the monkey crept through Ophir’s walls as lightning, and then climbed Inimois’ legs and back, perching itself on her shoulders. She found the creature so endearing, her chest could not find it in herself to reject it. Her thoughts had been invaded with doubts: “Why should I not keep these gifts? They are mine, are they not? There is no harm done.”
The cycle continued. Each time Sanquivio gifted the Princess with one of Moab’s gifts. When she was offered the blue flower, she drank from its sweet nectar, and was taken by an unquenchable appetite which laid waste to her pantries. A moon later, she was offered the indigo conch, and she would be lulled to sleep by hearing the sea in her ears, and she would slumber for hours on end, even during daytime.
In time, Inimois ceased to appear before her subjects… and before Amozia. Rather, she kept herself locked away in her room, sleeping, eating, and delighting herself in Sanquivio’s gifts.
Chapter
26
Ophir Conquered
Never was the princess more eager to attend Sanquivio’s serenade, than on the next new moon. What sort of gift would he offer her? What sort of magical effects would it produce? Oh that Carmel-sun would die already in a burst of scarlet! Oh, that the night, her beloved’s herald and predecessor, would swiftly come!
However, when the sun did set, and the night came, and her beloved sang, and the serenade ended, the gift did not quit
e meet her high expectations. The princess was outside of the main gate, and Amizdel alone with her to guard her. The king too came alone. No musicians and no litter would accompany him this time.
“My dearest lady!” Sanquivio said. “I am afraid my gift tonight is humbler, but it is all I have. It comes from the same source as the other six gifts, and I have yet to decipher its effect. Perhaps you, my princess, will be able to do so.”
And he offered her the purple maggot. She received the worm in her hand, and was most disgusted. She faked a smile, so as not to offend her loved one, but even under the darkness of the new moon, no one could be fooled by such a grin.
But the purple maggot, as ugly as it was, did not cease to produce its effect. As it crawled on her palm, she could feel a sudden bulging inside her chest. Not out of love, or any similar feeling. Rather, it was as if something within her shattered, and to this day there is no agreement whether it were chains or a heart that was broken—perhaps both. All she knew was how she felt most irked: Why should she meet Sanquivio only once a month, and under the cover of the night? Why should he be kept outside the walls as a criminal, when no one else had ever treated her with so much kindness? Why did the rules governing the world seem so absurd and hapless?
Inimois turned and walked, without speaking to Sanquivio or waiting for Amizdel to accompany her. For a moment, both giants exchanged confused looks at her and each other. She just walked. Never had her stride been so resolute. Some say her steps are still to this day marked in the dew-dampened grass lying before Ophir’s ruined gates. She walked towards the main gate and crossed it:
“Amizdel!” she yelled. “Come hither and lift the drawbridge!” And she murmured to herself, “This regrettable state of affairs ends tonight…!”
The captain knew not how to respond, save by obeying. Likewise, Sanquvio was at a loss: He feared to have forever offended the princess’ heart with his most repugnant gift.
“My lady! I beg your forgiveness! If this gift be not at your pleasure, rest assured I shall make amends for it by my next visit! But I needed to offer this creature to you, for I was given seven magical gifts and this was the seventh! Please, I beseech you, do not depart from my presence with such anger, for you will tear my heart with a pain I shall not bear!”
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