"Not until it is needed," she said, "for this is a marvelous weapon indeed; it has power over some of Sar-astro's people. Tie it round your waist, Papageno, and use it only when danger threatens. And now it is time for you to be on your way."
"Now? In the dark?" Papageno's tone was plaintive, and Tamino wondered if he went to roost at night like other birds. To tell the truth he felt much the same; after a month's journey he had looked forward to sleeping in a proper bed.
"But I don't know the way to Sarastro's realm," he protested, but even as he spoke the palace walls seemed to melt away, the ladies were gone, and he was standing on a dark road at the edge of a forest. He wondered if the whole bizarre episode had been a dream. No— for Papageno was standing beside him, trembling in the darkness, though it was not cold, and in his hands was the magical flute.
"What are we to do now, friend Papageno?" Tamino asked.
The Halfling whistled on his pipes. He said, "I should have thought to bring some more of those cakes and a little of that nice wine with me. But I didn't know we were going to start off again on our travels so soon. What to do? Well, the ladies gave you some kind of magical weapon, didn't they? You could try playing it, and see what it does. If it helps, that's fine, and if it doesn't, at least a tune might cheer us up a little."
"That's an idea." Tamino couldn't imagine what good it would do, but on the other hand he didn't know anything about magic. He found himself wondering if this encounter had been the first of the unknown Ordeals he had traveled so far to undergo. When you traveled into the magical realms—and this certainly felt as if it were part of them—he had always heard that you must be prepared to face the unknown.
He unslung the flute and put it up experimentally to his lips. He blew softly into it, expecting an un-practiced dissonance, but he heard a soft, piercing melody, surprisingly sweet. Astonished and pleased, he went on playing; he had always loved music, without having very much skill at making it.
Suddenly there was a faint golden glimmer in the air. Tamino blinked; in the darkness of the path before him there was a glow as of fireflies, and then three creatures stood before him.
He could not tell whether they were boys or girls. They were too human to be Halflings; but they were slight and golden-haired—or was that only the golden glow that surrounded them? He blurted, "Who are you?"
"We are the Messengers of Truth," said one—or were they all speaking together, a soft blended sound, almost like the music of the flute at his lips? "What do you ask of us?"
"Well, if it's all the same to you," Papageno said. "I wish I had some of that supper I never had a chance to finish in the Queen's palace."
"Papageno!" Tamino reproved gently, but one of the Messengers raised his hand—her hand?—with a little gesture, almost, but not quite, as if snapping half-invisible fingers. He said in that soft singing voice, "To each is given according to his needs of the moment." In his hand appeared a golden goblet and plate piled high with cakes. "Satisfy your hunger, my little friend. Wisdom may not reside in a full stomach, but it is certain it has never lived in an empty one. And you, Prince Tamino, what is your will?"
Tamino watched Papageno gobbling the cakes. He thought of the tree loaded with dates which had appeared out of nowhere in the Changing Lands and decided this was not such a bad country after all.
"At the moment," he said, "what I need more than anything else is a guide into the lands ruled over by a wicked magician whose name is Sarastro."
"Who told you about Sarastro? And why do you call him a wicked magician?" the Messenger asked— or were they again all speaking at once?
"A cruelly wronged woman made her complaint to me," Tamino answered.
Papageno whispered, "Tamino, these are good people, at least if I can judge by their food and wine. How would they know the way into any wicked sorcerer's house? Isn't it insulting even to ask them such a thing?"
"If they object," Tamino said reasonably, "they can always tell me so. And if Sarastro has extended his influence over all the people around here, as the Star-queen told us, certainly they would know it." He looked hesitantly at the Messengers.
"Can you guide us to Sarastro?"
"Certainly we can, and we shall do so," said the Messenger, or perhaps all of them, for try as he might Tamino did not see their lips move nor could he tell which one of them was speaking. "If you follow us you shall certainly come before Sarastro, and you will have an opportunity to confront that which we serve: the Truth. Have you finished your meal, little friend?" He reached for the empty goblet, tossed it into the air, where it vanished in a golden, firefly glow.
Papageno asked, "How did you do that?"
"Be careful what you ask," answered the Messenger, "since to ask a question involves you in a search for the answer; more than the answer—for the Truth which lies behind the answer. Are you sure you wish to know?"
Papageno only blinked, but the Messenger was evidently waiting for an answer. At last he said, "I don't know. I haven't got a very good head for riddles."
"Honestly answered," said the Messenger. Tamino was almost sure it was the one at the far right who was speaking this time. "Have you this much honesty, Prince Tamino?"
Tamino looked at the three glowing figures. He said at last, "I don't know either. But I'll try."
"Very well," said the Messenger. Now he looked like a very young girl. In fact, their figures and features seemed to shift and change. 'That answer will do to begin with. Follow us, then."
They turned about, and Tamino followed the glowing figures along a path—he would have sworn that the path had not been there a moment ago.
"Come along, Papageno," he said, "and don't be frightened. I don't think they mean us any harm, and if they are the Messengers of Truth, I suppose they were telling us the truth when they said they would take us to Sarastro."
"It's dark," Papageno said, trembling.
"There's nothing there in the dark that isn't there in the light," Tamino said. He remembered his nurse telling him this when he was very small and asked for a nightlight. To tell the truth he felt no braver than Papageno; but fate had given him the harmless Halfling to look after, and he should set Papageno a good example.
Trying to sound braver than he felt, he whistled softly and they walked after the glowing figures of the Messengers, into the dark path between the trees.
CHAPTER SIX
HE was there, and spying on her again. m m Nervously, Pamina drew the sheet round her body. She had never really liked Monostatos, not even when she had known him distantly, as one of her mother's faithful servants. He frightened her. It was not only that he was peculiar in appearance, akin to the Serpent-folk. But it seemed that whenever by chance he encountered her, his colorless eyes seemed to cling; so that she always wondered if somehow she had encouraged him to stare.
And here in this strange house, among strangers, and away from all familiar things and patterns of life— even the Halflings here were presumptuous, speaking without being spoken to, taking license as if they had never been beaten—Monostatos seemed to expect she would turn to him as to an old friend.
Only the level of friendship he seemed to offer was strange, troubling, over-familiar. All too often he appeared within the suite of rooms Sarastro had put at her disposal, trying to seem as if he were on the best of terms with her servants, and more than once, as now, she had sensed that he was spying upon her when she was in her bath or being dressed. In her mother's house he would not have dared to intrude upon her, and her mother's servants would have swiftly thrust him out the door if he had tried. But here in the strange household of Sarastro, how could she tell whether this intrusion.was something Sarastro had willed?
She wrapped her robe around herself more tightly and called the Halfling servant to bring her garments. "And draw the curtains closed," she commanded. "I feel eyes upon me."
But would they obey her, if Monostatos here enjoyed the privileges he seemed to claim without even thinking about it, if
he was, in truth, closely allied to the unknown and frightening Sarastro, who had seized her and brought her here?
But they drew the curtains without protest, and she gave orders to have herself dressed. Should he override her commands, she preferred to face him fully clothed; his eyes, it seemed, never left her, but if he must stare, she preferred that he confine his staring to the outer layers of her clothing.
But at least, now, if he wished admission to her suite, he must ask entry in the ordinary way, and Pam-ina took what comfort she could from that fact.
"Does my lady wish food brought to her here?" asked the dog-halfling who waited upon her, a woman who reminded Pamina poignantly of Rawa. She had not thought of Rawa in years and was annoyed at herself that she felt so secure and comfortable with this woman, who was after all one of Sarastro's corrupt and deluded slaves.
"Yes, I suppose so." There was, after all, little else to do here, unless she wished to look into some of the scrolls Sarastro had left for her, and she supposed they were full of Sarastro's hateful philosophy. He had asked her to read them, and that was enough to turn her against whatever apparent or pretended wisdom they might have contained.
It was not that he had been cruel to her, or inhuman.
In their one brief interview, Sarastro had treated her with gentleness; had, if anything, seemed kind, though detached. But Pamina was remembering the terror of that day—how long ago had it been? She had lost count of the days—a handful of days, at least—since she had raised her eyes from her favorite seat in the orchard with Papagena to see strange Halflings approaching her without her permission. When she cried out to them in outrage—who were they to intrude upon the daughter of the Starqueen?—she had seen the strangely dressed priest. She knew now that he was one of Sarastro's debased priesthood, but then she had only seen the curious and unfamiliar emblems on his clothing, and had been too frightened to listen to any reassurances.
Princess Pamina, no one will harm you, but you must come with us quietly, without any outcry.
She had at once screamed out loudly for her mother's servants. But she remembered nothing more, except a muffling cloak over her mouth, a sense that she was falling, dying. Then she had awakened here, among servants wearing Sarastro's livery, who assured her again that she would not be harmed, and had provided her with every luxury except the one thing she really wanted—to be returned to her mother.
My poor mother. She will be in terror for me, her heart will surely break.
Everyone else, Pamina knew, was afraid of the Star-queen. Pamina alone knew her softer side; to her alone, her mother was invariably tender and yielding. Why should Sarastro have chosen now to resume their old warfare?
She knew nothing of Sarastro except this: that he was the Starqueen's enemy. There was some old grudge between them; Pamina did not know its cause, but she knew her mother to be a just and virtuous ruler; if Sarastro set himself against the Starqueen, Pamina was sure she knew where the truth must lie.
When food was brought she ate reflectively. She felt like crying again, thinking of her mother's distress. But she had done too much weeping. She must put her mind now to something useful: escape, or at least how to keep her own integrity among Sarastro's people.
"Lady," said the dog-halfling, whose name she had not troubled herself to ask, "Prince Monostatos humbly begs that he may be admitted to speak with you."
Really, Pamina thought, Prince Monostatos! And who conferred royalty upon him, I wonder? She was tempted to tell him to go away again, proudly refuse to speak with him. But Monostatos was at least halfway familiar, he was—or once had been—one of her mother's trusted servants, and if he too had defected to the hateful Sarastro she could at least reproach him with his treachery. She had no great desire to sit and talk to Monostatos. But what else was there to do, except sit and stare out of the window? Sarastro had exquisite gardens, but Pamina was tired of looking at them. That, or torment herself with thinking of her mother's despair.
"Let him come in," she said.
Monostatos, son of the Great Serpent, was tall, his skin dark and sallow; but the features were not unhandsome. There was, Pamina thought, a faint resemblance to Disa, whom she had always thought beautiful. He moved gracefully; almost, it seemed to Pamina, he glided. His eyes, though, were unpleasantly quick, bright, and gleaming.
"Ah, lady, does our hospitality please you? Have you been made comfortable? Are your servants serving you well? Have you been brought everything your heart could desire?"
Pamina drew her brows together in a frown and said, "Monostatos, my mother trusted you. And you have deserted her for Sarastro. How dare you come into my presence like this?"
"Had it never occurred to you that wherever you are is where I wish also to be, Pamina?" he asked her, and stood so close to her chair that she got up and moved farther away from him, frowning.
"Do you think I am eager for gallantries from you, Monostatos? Certainly not! Either give me a sensible answer as to why you are here, serving Sarastro when you are honor-bound to serve my mother, the Star-queen, or go away again and don't come into my presence at all!"
"You speak like a child, Pamina," he said. "You are even too much a child, I think, for me to call you lady or princess. But I will give you a truthful answer. I have come here to undertake the Ordeals of the Temple, and thereby gain my birthright."
"Your birthright?" She shook her head, confused.
"My father was the Great Serpent and I am his only son and heir; there have been great men and great priests among the Serpent-kin of Atlas-Alamesios. Among them I intend that the name of Monostatos shall be written. I intend also that the son of the Great Serpent shall be considered when Sarastro shall give the hand of his daughter in marriage—for he has no son, and therefore to the husband of his daughter shall pass the power of the crown of Atlas-Alamesios."
"If Sarastro has a daughter," Pamina said, "then he should have some compassion for my mother; and if not he is no man but a monster. Is his daughter known to you?"
"Perfectly well," said Monostatos.
"I should like to see her sometime," said Pamina.
"Nothing is easier." Monostatos crossed to the dressing table, while Pamina watched in indignation. How dare he meddle with her belongings? He picked up her silver mirror, bowed deeply and handed it to her.
Pamina flushed angrily and struck the mirror from his hand. "What mockery is this?"
"No mockery at all," said Monostatos. "Has the Starqueen told you nothing of this, daughter of Sarastro?"
"I think you must be mad," Pamina said.
"Nothing of the sort." The pale smooth features were taut, as if repressing some emotion—anger, scorn? "I am certain your mother intended, one day, to tell you who fathered you, daughter of Sarastro; but perhaps she thought you too young to understand that between a man and a woman who once loved, various causes may arise for contention."
"How did you find that out? I cannot believe my mother would have confided in you, of all people," Pamina said, lifting her lip in contempt, and Monostatos let his features tighten still further.
"Beware, Pamina," he said, "I wish to be your friend; perhaps I am your only friend here. I would be your lover, your husband. But I will not be mocked this way. Sarastro is the power of this place, and I shall be high in his favor when I have undertaken the Ordeals and hold all the power of the ancient Serpent-kings. It would be wise for you to remain my friend."
"If that is my only alternative," Pamina said, feeling her mouth curl in distaste, "I am resigned to being friendless here. Before I would have you for lover, or for husband, I would take a vow of chastity and hunt forever for the Sacred Antelope in the band of the Maidens of the Moon."
Monostatos laughed, a curiously mirthless sound. He said, "You are truly a child, Pamina. You are heir to the Starqueen; do you truly believe that she would allow you to waste yourself in that way? The Divine Polarity must be manifested in her child as well, before you assume your heritage. I intend that w
hen you are given in marriage, the hand you take shall be mine."
"Given in marriage to the Son of the Serpent?" Pamina cried out in mingled horror and scorn. "Never! I cannot believe my mother would give me to you—"
"You dare say so, when your own sisters, the children of your mother's own body, were fathered by the Great Serpent, my father? If the mother accepts the father, shall the daughter refuse the son?" The sallow features now were almost flushed.
"Yet when she wished a daughter for her true heir," Pamina cried out furiously, "mark it well, Monostatos, she turned not to the Great Serpent, your father, but to a priest-king of Atlas-Alamesios—if what you say is true and I am in fact daughter to Sarastro! If my mother thought your father so high-born and so fit for her consort, why did she not then choose him to father her heir?"
"I say again to you, Pamina, beware," he said, and now she was really afraid of him. He advanced on her with his fists clenched, his eyes glittering. There was a swiftness about his movements that suddenly terrified her. She backed against the wall, covering her mouth with her hands.
Then suddenly he relaxed and smiled. He lowered his clenched fists, saying genially, "You are really only a child, Pamina. When the day comes when I have conquered the Ordeals and taken all my birthright, then, I dare say, when Sarastro lays your hand in mine, you will be ready to have me for your true mate."
"Never!"
Well, we shall see," Monostatos said, laughing softly. "And in earnest of that day, give to your promised husband your first kiss, Pamina." He strode forward toward her; she shrank back against the wall, putting out her hands mutely to stop him. Laughing, he grasped them in one of his own, pulled her against him, almost roughly, and with his free hand pulled her head forward, crushing his lips against hers. She jerked her head away, frantic, hating the heat in his lips. His breath was not foul, but nevertheless she twisted her head away in disgust.
"How dare you? You—you snake ! You HalflingV
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