by M. Woodruff
The Jouel of Silver Persia blinked. She seemed on the verge of saying something, but evidently changed her mind, as she instead gave a slight tilt of her head and said, “Of course.”
A large crystal goblet appeared on the tray at once. Nels could see tiny bubbles floating to the surface and was pleased to hear the drink sizzle as if it had been freshly poured. He took his goblet, looking towards Casandra to see if they were supposed to toast the jouel, but she was already taking a sip of tea from a pale-green teacup gilded with silver on the rim and handle. He took a hearty drink of his Nectar of the Gods and eyed Grayson over his goblet. She had provided no tray or beverage for herself. Nels resisted the urge to make a pleasing sound after the cold liquid had tickled all the way down his throat to his stomach, and gave a start when he went to set the goblet down and saw he now had food refreshment on his tray as well.
“Now that I know your palettes’ desires this afternoon, I’ve taken the liberty to provide what I feel will best suit each of you.” Grayson folded her hands in her lap, looking at them expectantly.
Nels thought it to be extremely rude to eat in front of the Jouel, but thought it was probably worse not to partake if that was her wish and she had provided the food. Apparently, Casandra felt the same way for she taking a bite of what looked to be a very thin chocolate cookie. Daintily, wiping her mouth with a cloth placed on her tray, she exclaimed, “Ooh! This is delicious!”
Grayson gave a slight nod acknowledging the implied compliment. “Yes, it is made from a very dark and delicate chocolate, so as to complement the mint tea, yet not overpower it.”
Nels looked down at his own tray to see what goodie the Jouel had conjured up for him, and was surprised to see what looked like a pink snowball sprinkled with coconut shavings and shiny pink beads. He glanced at Grayson hesitantly—now how was he supposed to eat this without making a fool of himself, and more importantly, did he even want to eat this? No matter what she said about what his palette wanted.
He still hesitated before even picking the monstrosity up, waiting for an explanation of what it was and why it would mix well with his beverage of choice, but she just gave him a faint smile and what he thought was a ghost of a shrug.
Well, no help for it, then. He picked up the sweet creation—yikes! he at least hoped it was sweet—and his fingers melted into its gooey center barely being stopped from penetrating all the way though by what felt like spongy cake. He took a bite, already feeling coconut, icing, and pink beads on the tip of his nose and chin. He was glad to find it was actually slightly tart despite its overly sweet appearance. Not sure he’d be able to relinquish the treat even if he wanted to, he used his other hand to retrieve his goblet and take a drink.
“This is delicious!” Nels smiled, feeling coconut and pink beads drop from the sides of his mouth onto his lap. Not caring, he took another bite and sip; he’d worry about clean-up later.
“I’m glad you like it,” Grayson said. “I’m afraid I had to improvise, not being a Nectar of the Gods connoisseur myself.”
“It’s perfect,” Nels said while shoving the last oversized bite into his mouth; hoping she might provide another. Casandra had gotten two cookies. “Is this how you make all of your meals, too?”
“No, I normally don’t ‘cook’ so to speak. I leave that to our professional chefs. Most have the ability to prepare a meal just as I did now, but they do so enjoy the actual cooking part, they tend to do it the old-fashioned way, by hand. And as I can never tell the difference, either way is fine by me, so long as nothing is cold when it should not be. This afternoon, however, I wished our meeting to be private, so I have not alerted any of my staff to your presence, yet. Therefore, you had the rare privilege of having the Jouel cook for you,” she finished, her eyes sparkling with warmth.
“Oh, thank you, Grayson! It really was delightful and I didn’t even begin to realize how special it was.” Casandra beamed gratefully at the Jouel.
“Uh, yes, thank you, Jouel,” Nels said while trying to discreetly wipe and hide pink snowball leavings from his face and clothes with his cloth.
“Please, Nels, call me Grayson. In such informal circumstances, informality takes precedence over protocol. I am only called ‘Jouel’ during public occasions.”
He saw her eyeing him curiously and hoped he had managed to remove all traces of the sweet from his person, circumspectly enough that she hadn’t noticed. “Of course, Grayson. It is an honor.” He placed his sticky white and pink cloth on the tray and it immediately disappeared. So, no second treat for him, he thought, feeling a bit slighted.
“Now, Casandra, I am sure you were a bit ruffled to find yourself entering Silver Persia from this Portal,” Grayson began, her voice taking on a more business-like cadence. “I found it necessary to divert you from your usual entry point to a more private one I established. This room and hallway are not actually part of the physical palace—it is a place-within-a-place, or a room-within-a-room that occupies the same exact spot.”
Nels gaped. “Huh?”
Grayson continued, after a slight nod, as if she had expected such a reaction. “The appearance of this room is taken directly from an old study in the palace, minus the furniture. I just used the outline of that room to build this one and the hallway as a buffer zone. It removed the chance of you going out-of-bounds and ending up no-telling-where. I also took out the windows so you wouldn’t look out and see nothing but blackness. I didn’t find it to be necessary to create a false scenery for our meeting.”
Nels couldn’t help but interrupt. “You mean this place isn’t real?” He asked with a slight quiver to his voice.
“Oh, it is real enough. It is just on a different plane from Silver Persia. There are many different…levels to our worlds that can occupy the same space technically, but because they are positioned either higher or lower they cannot be seen, however I do believe at times they can be felt and even interact with one another. In fact, for all we know Silver Persia, Sandrid, and The Kingdom could all be layered on top of each other. Or spread out worlds apart. We don’t know enough yet about the worlds we live in; the time and space we occupy. But, we are learning.” Grayson gave a rueful smile. “I was able to bring you here, was I not? This is new for me and past time I learned about it, unfortunately.”
“Unfortunately?” Casandra asked looking concerned and grasping for a teacup that was no longer there. “Is…there something…wrong?”
Nels felt like he could hear Casandra’s heart beating stronger than any drum. He knew it was hers—his was beating a steady rhythm in his chest, aside from being a bit curious, Grayson’s remark hadn’t fazed him, but Casandra, on the other hand…He had it brought home to him again—she had been so sheltered, led such an uncomplicated life that the barest mention of something being not-quite-right and she was near to panic. He held his breath, hoping Grayson’s answer would be a soothing one, then found himself wondering if that was the proper response.
Here was a woman in her thirties that could travel between worlds; certainly she needed to learn how to cope with difficulties. He was somewhat confounded she had managed to avoid doing so, so far. He also knew from her reaction that Casandra didn’t have the overly optimistic attitude that allowed some people to fight a bear with a butter knife sure they would come out the victor with never a trace of fear. But, she had fear—extreme fear—at only an implied possibility.
While Nels was struggling with his instinct to protect Casandra or his desire to have her face trouble head on with maturity, Grayson was studying her intently, as well. He wondered if she could hear Casandra’s heartbeat as clearly as he could. As if in answer, Grayson shot him a quick glance with her measuring green eyes, and he knew that she too instantly grasped the situation. Do they protect Casandra, continue her sheltered existence, or was it time to have her face whatever may come? Nels knew whatever Grayson had to say would not be good, and he couldn’t help but feel a small bit of relief that whatever she decided was the best cou
rse for Casandra, the responsibility was now removed from his shoulders.
“Yes, dear. I’m afraid there is,” Grayson answered in a subdued voice that held no trace of fear, only awareness of what her words would mean to the young woman.
Casandra let out a gasp and clutched the ends of her armchair until her knuckles turned white. “Not…not here…not in Silver Persia?!” she stammered incredulously. Her eyes going wide at the mere thought of anything detrimental coming to this world especially.
Nels felt a momentary flash of annoyance at Casandra’s reaction that he was surprised by. He didn’t have any knowledge of Silver Persia at all, really, but surely Casandra was not so naïve as to not realize that trouble could show up on a doorstep anywhere—no matter how well guarded.
“What kind of trouble?” he broke in gruffly before Grayson had a chance to answer. He wanted to cut to the heart of the matter. If the trouble was something so minor as the Jouel having problems with the staff breaking her best porcelain then there was no need to drag this out for Casandra.
“It’s nothing so simple, Nels,” Grayson answered as if reading his mind. She paused a moment, eyeing Casandra, before continuing, “I believe Silver Persia has been infiltrated by…darker sources.”
Casandra gasped again, and Nels had to bite his tongue to keep from offering up a sharp retort towards her. In fact, what he’d really like to do is put his hands around her thin little neck and…Black’s flames! What was wrong with him? He barked back a laugh, thinking he knew exactly where the darker sources were coming from and then the thought sobered him…could he be one of the dark sources? The embroidered serpent was able to follow him anywhere, he knew…had it followed him here and Grayson already knew about it?
“What kind of dark sources? What do you mean, Grayson?” Casandra pleaded and jumped when a tray with a teacup appeared beside her. Then nodded gratefully as she picked up the cup with a shaking hand.
“The Power we have been given comes from the eternal source of Light, called the Tiph’arah, which is for the growth and wellbeing of all mankind, that we may be crowned in splendor and beauty, in all of its manifest forms. All may partake in the Tiph’arah, it is freely given and I believe we all have it hidden deep inside, but one first must awaken the spark within to make the connection to the source and receive its power.
“We three have awakened the Tiph’arah in us and can now utilize its power in our own unique ways. But, while I believed it was the only source available to us, I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that there is another one—not benevolent in nature. While the Tiph’arah comes from the Light, the Katak’amai comes from the Dark. One joins the Katak’amai, it is not a gift to all; it is a choice one makes with the Power they’ve been given—a misuse of it, so to speak. There is always a choice. I should have known sooner.” Grayson shook her head, sadly, as she fell silent, staring at the regret only she could see.
Casandra sat mutely, her eyes wide and her lips drawn into a thin line, as if she was unsure of what to make of what Grayson had just said. Nels sighing, understood all too well.
“So you believe this…Katak’amai…is being practiced here in Silver Persia? To what end? And by whom?” Nels queried.
Grayson met Nels’ question with an unflinching gaze. “Yes, the Katak’amai’s eye is upon us all, set upon our complete annihilation, unless…we choose to serve the Darkness.”
Nels heard Casandra’s sharp intake of breath at the same time he heard a faint whispering hiss. Obediently, he turned his head to the sound and saw the doorknob eye was now a glowing yellow orb with a black-slitted pupil. Yes, he thought, this place has definitely been infiltrated, and in an ill-timed moment of hilarity, burst out laughing.
“Nels! This is certainly not funny! How dare you laugh at something so serious! I apologize, Grayson. I don’t know what’s gotten in to him. Nels, how can you be so rude?” Casandra was set to continue, but Grayson cut her off with a wave of her hand, as Nels found himself laughing even harder.
“Let him continue, dear,” Grayson said, “I feel he needs to get this out of his system. We all handle distressing news differently.”
His mirth continued at an even higher level when a goblet of Nectar of the Gods appeared beside him. He couldn’t even begin to take a drink, he was laughing so hard. And found that he was actually enjoying himself. At first he thought he must be suffering from some form of hysteria, but as the waves of jocularity rolled through him, he realized he did feel better. Even enough to look back over at the doorknob, pleased to see it had returned to just a regular eye.
Grayson caught his gaze and asked knowingly, “You see the truth of my words, then?”
“Yes, I see.” His own response sobering his mood at once. Though, he still felt a sense of relief—at least, now, he knew what it is. All this time he had known there was a dark force out there, unseen, mostly, but still able to make its presence felt. And make bargains. So that’s what it had been trying to do—the embroidered serpent wanted him to join this Katak’amai and be on its side. Fine way to go about it—trying to scare him. But why would it want him to go back to Black’s Hand? He took a sip of his drink to calm his thoughts.
“See what?” Casandra asked. “I don’t see anything. How could this…this Katak’whatever be here in Silver Persia? It’s so beautiful.” Horror suddenly showed on her face. “It hasn’t changed, has it? It’s still just as stunning as ever, yes?” Her voice desperate.
“Yes, Casandra, Silver Persia is just as it always has been.” Grayson sounded as if she was placating a child, which she essentially was, Nels realized. Then he got a start as Grayson spoke directly into his mind, “On the surface, that is.” Her eyes holding his for a moment, sharing a decision. Casandra could not be told the complete truth; she would share the rest of it with him, later. His eyes gave her a quick nod of acceptance.
“Oh, good! Oh, I was so worried, for a moment.” Casandra breathed a sigh of relief and took a sip of tea, her hand now steady. The major crisis apparently averted in her mind. “I thought your glorious land might have been destroyed.” She turned to Nels with a sparkle back in her eyes. “I can’t wait to show you around, Nels. You thought Sandrid was amazing—wait till you see what Silver Persia is like!”
Nels caught the frown forming on his lips just in time. He really wasn’t in the mood to do any sightseeing. He had seen a lot in Sandrid, and learned nothing in return. Now that he was aware of what was shaping the worlds and what it meant for him personally, he found his survival instinct kicking back in after his long hiatus from the woods. He could smell a rabid fox loose in the wind.
Nels managed to give Casandra a smile as Grayson said, “That will have to wait, dear. I must get back to my duties and I’m sure you both would like a chance to rest before dinner.”
“Oh! Clothes! I can’t attend dinner in this,” Casandra said eyeing her dress disdainfully.
“You can wear whatever you like, Casandra. You are my guest. However, there will be dresses for you aplenty in your wardrobe.”
“Wonderful! Thank you, Grayson.”
Apparently, Casandra had totally forgotten what she had just been told about the Katak’amai, but Nels had not. Grayson had never really answered their questions and then it dawned on him, his bewilderment at Casandra’s suddenly carefree attitude, disappearing. Grayson had done something to her. Maybe it was like a mind shift that Meiiralisai had mentioned. Did Casandra remember anything of their previous conversation? He would have to ask the Jouel when they were alone.
“Come,” Grayson said as she stood, beckoning them forward. “All we need to do is walk out of the door and we’ll be back in the palace proper.”
Glancing back as they exited, Nels noticed the chairs had disappeared. It was just the slightest of movements; suddenly there was a slight ripple down one of the curtains, as if a rat was scurrying down the underside. He felt his skin crawl—surely, there wouldn’t be rats in Grayson’s room-within-a-room. Surely not.
He hurriedly stepped into the hall behind the ladies and shut the door. The hallway was the same, but now he could see the end and cross-corridors intersecting. He also noticed that his vision seemed sharper, as if there had been a slight vagueness to everything before that wasn’t apparent until he could see the clarity before him now.
A staff member had obviously been waiting for the group further down the hall. Nels was surprised to see that the young man was wearing a long, white wig—it had to be a wig—that shimmered with sparkly dust and strands of diamonds. His red satin suit tucked into slick black boots was just as shiny as his wig. The man bowed at their approach, his flowing red lace cuffs ran from elbow to wrist and were interspersed with rubies; they brushed the floor as he leaned forward.
“Anon, if you will escort Casandra and Nels to their rooms.” Grayson turned to face them and said, “Please rest and feel free to speak any needs you may have. My staff will hear and see that they are met promptly. We may not have a chance to speak at dinner, but we will chat further, I assure you.”
She left in a swish of skirts, and as she made her way down the hallway, men dressed in the same manner as Anon, seemed to step out of the walls to escort her.
“If you will follow me,” Anon said, turning down a corridor.
“What did she mean to ‘speak any needs we may have’? Just talk out loud?” Nels asked.
“Yes. In your room there is a speaking crystal. You may talk into it, or generally, just into the air and it will hear you, unless you whisper, of course. It will relay the message to one of the staff who can best assist you.” Anon seemed to have a rather spritely spring to his step. It was almost as if the young man was itching to start dancing and having a hard time keeping it under control. Youth, Nels thought, wistfully, and smiled.
“It’s like the ring Javin had,” Casandra supplied. “This is where he got it from.”