“Although your arm will heal just fine in the next month or so, even after it does heal, you might still feel some pain when bronze-making for a good many weeks after.” Penthesilea stood and peered at the other four scattered about the room. “Out!”
“No!” Persepolis proclaimed. “We are staying here and will only leave when Evagoria tells us to.”
Penthesilea’s eyes narrowed and a bluish fire that looked as if it could melt stone now pointed straight at Persepolis. She began to ‘pet’ the pouch she held in one hand in much the same way Queen Marseea would rub the Heart of Terra Australis.
“Really?”
“Um, yes,” Persepolis mumbled. He then stood tall and found his princely voice. “Yes, really!” Next, he looked at Adamarcus and Taharqa. “Right?”
Penthesilea turned to the open-mouthed Centaurs and threw them a wicked smile.
They now dared say NOTHING!
“Very well then.” She pocketed the white pouch. Penthesilea then withdrew two others: one goldenrod with a maroon string, the other black on black. “Take your pick, Arachna!”
If six creatures in the same room were ever more silent, Evagoria had never seen or heard of it. Finally, Adamarcus let out a cough – she was pretty sure it was a fake one – and made his way to the side of her bed once more. His back to the mystic, he knelt on all four knees just as he had done earlier.
“Penthesilea is the healer here,” Adamarcus announced as he rolled his eyes at the young witch’s pompous threats.
Evagoria could barely hold in the giggles ready to burst that would have given him away. Next, he took her hand in his and kissed it. Maybe he kissed her hand in a way he had never done before, maybe all the spells and potions were messing with her mind, she nearly passed out from his touch. And this time, Zacharias did growl – LOUD!
Adamarcus leapt up and stumbled back; his rump almost crashed into Penthesilea. Taharqa and Persepolis both laughed at this, of course. The witch just looked annoyed.
“T-Tomorrow,” Adamarcus stuttered once he steadied himself, “it will … it will be here s-soon enough so I think it best we do as Penthesilea asks.”
“But, but,” Persepolis babbled.
“Shut up before she gives you eight more legs,” Taharqa warned as he pushed his way toward Evagoria. He also took her hand in his, but Zacharias’ look just daring him to, did not kiss it. The three friends then filed out and were gone.
“You too, Zacharias.”
The prince stood tall and set his silvery eyes tinged with gold on Penthesilea. His chest against the bed, Evagoria could ‘feel’ a growl coming on, but the wily witch easily fended it off.
“If you care for Evagoria,” she pocketed the pouches, “I beg that you do as I ask. She needs rest and will only get it if left alone.”
“Don’t worry, my friend, I’m not going anywhere,” Evagoria reassured him as she pulled on her silk sheets. “Penthesilea will see to that.”
“As you wish, Princess,” Zacharias grumbled. “I will see you in the morning. Good night.”
He buried his head into her good arm. Next, he sauntered toward the double doors carved from Kauri wood. His rump barely past the doorway, Penthesilea followed right behind and slammed the doors behind her.
The night still a good full turn or two earlier than when Evagoria would normally go to sleep, she let out a deep sigh, set her head on her pillow, and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling.
*****
Evagoria awoke with a start. She then looked all around – her eyes told her she was alone, but she did not feel alone. Ready to let out her morning yawn as she did every other day of her life, it was not there to greet her. She stretched, yet every muscle already felt spry and springy. Pleased at how rested the potions made her feel, Evagoria slid off her bed, removed her still damp tail sack, and glided onto the balcony that extended from her room.
“Wow …” Evagoria drawled to her charmed self as she gazed east. The very top of the sun greeted this drawl. She now watched in joyous glee as the peaceful orange of dawn melded into the goldenrod glow of early morning. Evagoria saw the sun set during most dusks, but always slept through daybreak. Just like her Queen Mother. Satisfied, she turned around and made her way back into the room. And then she saw it.…
On one of her two side tables stood a carving made of wood about a hand high.
“I don’t remember this!” Now next to the table where the carving sat, Evagoria picked it up. “A little panda – how quaint!”
Soft steps heard behind her, Evagoria pushed her flukes into the stone floor and spun around.
“There you are!” she teased, but no one was there.
A freshly picked sunflower, however, now lay atop the other side table. The carving still in hand, Evagoria glided over to this table on the left side of her bed – the sunflower was nearly the size of her head. She set the carving next to the sunflower’s green stem and ran her fingers along it.
“I think … I have … a stalker,” Evagoria sang with a slow playfulness.
More footsteps heard, then a giggle; Evagoria peeked at the foot of the bed to her right. Spying eyes of the palest blue peeked back. Except for these eyes and hair, this ‘intruder’ bearing gifts hid herself behind the finely carved foot of Evagoria’s sleigh bed. Charmed and beyond curious, she lifted herself onto the bed and pulled her tail beneath her bottom.
Expecting a Centauress youngling – no Mermaid aside from her had blue eyes – a Sapien child revealed herself instead. This child now took a few steps closer and then stopped. Evagoria had heard stories of the last Sapien ever born, and guessed that this little girl was that last one, but she had never seen her.
Depressingly disheveled, yet as charming as the stars – Evagoria could think of no other way to describe what she gazed upon.
The girl’s body looked about that of a six, maybe seven-year-old, but this tiny Sapien was, of course, many times older. A frail thing, she desperately needed a bath. Hair that was probably blonde a mussed up disaster, a Gryphon mane had less tangles. Rags for clothes that could not remember what color they once were draped sloppily across her many bony parts. But those eyes, those pale blue eyes, they were wondrous, yet hurt in a way Evagoria could not grasp.
“You are the Mermaid they all talk about. The one the males swoon over. The one the females do not like because you are so pretty.”
This little girl’s voice owned the same squeakiness as that of most younglings, but something was different. That how she saw their world was learned not willfully, but somehow thrust upon her. As if she had never been granted the gift of childhood.
“Well, I don’t know many who will swoon over me with this on.” Evagoria lifted up her broken arm swathed in white silk interwoven with silver thread. “But if what you say about females is true, maybe I will not look so pretty to them anymore and will gain a few more friends.”
The little girl gasped the moment she saw this white silk trimmed in silver.
OH, THAT WAS BRILLIANT, EVAGORIA!
The covering wrapped around her splint was probably nicer than anything this tiny wretch had ever worn. Embarrassed she had practically shoved this show of wealth in the little one’s face; Evagoria brought her arm back down, shoved it under the blanket, and turned her head away.
If this bothered the child, she did not show it. Just the opposite, she climbed onto the bed and smiled wide – she had brought gifts and to sit close to Evagoria was her reward. Thankful that the little one’s smile washed away most of the shame brought on by her mindless stupidity, Evagoria smiled back.
“I have lots of friends!” the little one bragged. Eyes – happy. She then sighed, and the disclaimer came next. “They are all pandas, but they are still my friends. I take care of them and they take care of me. I love them and they love me.” She then sighed deep. Eyes – sad. “Still … one more friend would be nice.”
With a bath that might take days, Evagoria now tried to imagine what this tiny wretch might loo
k like if scrubbed up. Grungy hair that did its best to hide blonde streaks washed and brushed and cleansing waters to deepen the blue of those pale blue eyes – the two would suddenly look a good deal alike. Aside from the birthmark, of course.
“You carved this yourself?” Evagoria asked as she picked up the wooden panda from the table to her left and held it up.
“I sure did!” the little one answered with a proud sweetness. Eyes – happy.
“You are very talented – it’s so detailed! I can almost see the white and black of the giant panda.”
“Well … I would have painted it, but I don’t have money or anything to trade for paint.” Eyes – sad.
“And that’s just fine!” Evagoria said quickly. “I would like to paint it myself, and then when I am done, I will bring it back to show you.”
Eyes – happy. Then another sigh. Eyes – sad. “You will forget about me. Just like everyone else.”
“Oh, it has been a pretty crazy couple of days!” Evagoria howled. She set the carved panda back on the table next to the sunflower. “The games, these two gifts – I won’t be forgetting anything for quite a while.” She then smiled as wide as she could. “Especially you.”
The little girl’s beaming smile matched Evagoria’s grin. Eyes – happy. She then reached into a pocket. “Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you too!”
“Three gifts – goodness, is it my birthday?” Evagoria asked playfully as she took the shiny green apple into her hand. The child giggled.
The apple wiped down and set in front of her, Evagoria brought her palms close. With a glow and a scraping hum, she then pulled them apart.
“Oh, this won’t do!”
The deficient dagger nothing like she normally bronze-made, she dropped it onto the floor. She then pushed her palms together again and, with a small wince this time, pulled them apart, but more slowly. A proper dagger now in her left hand, Evagoria looked up. Mesmerized eyes and a half-open mouth looked down.
“I have never seen a Mermaid bronze-make something so close to me,” the girl drawled in awe.
“It is quite useful, I must say.”
Evagoria cut the apple in two, sliced away the seeds, dispatched the dagger, and held out one half.
The girl reached out with a tiny hand to take the offered apple piece, but paused. As five dainty fingers wiggled in thought, Evagoria immediately realized why: The little one had stolen the apple. Or at least taken without permission what was really hers anyway. Sapiens received more than they could possibly eat or spend from the other four nations in exchange for their medicines and teachings, yet it appeared that the frailest Sapien Evagoria had ever seen received none of this bounty.
Stolen or not, Evagoria could not have cared less. She shoved the apple half into a hand barely large enough to hold it and smiled. No pause this time, the little girl smiled back and gobbled down the apple piece as if she had not eaten in days. Evagoria then broke off a small piece of her own half, popped it into her mouth, and held out the rest. Again no pause, the girl devoured this piece as well.
“I saw you watch the sunrise,” the child remarked as she sloppily licked the juice off her fingers. “Do you always watch the sun come up for so long?”
“Just the opposite, actually. This morning was the first time I have seen it rise in, well, I can’t really remember how long, because I usually stay awake well into the night and sleep past daybreak.”
With a finger still in her mouth, the child froze as if she could not believe such words. After a few moments, she finally removed this finger from her mouth and wiped both hands on Evagoria’s bed sheet.
“Ooops, I shouldn’t have done that.” Eyes – sad. “I’m sorry, I’m ––”
“Oh, don’t worry about it!” Evagoria said in her kindest voice to put the youngling at ease. “I’ve been wiping my hands on these sheets from the moment they brought me in here.”
Eyes – happy. “Well, I don’t stay awake into the night because pandas don’t like to stay up late. Simple, easy to remember – aside for non-enders[43] – we go to bed at sunset and wake up at sunrise. But, sometimes, like today, I do wake up a little early.”
“And I’m pleased you did.”
Evagoria pitied this unlucky little angel. Sapiens were a brilliant lot, but they were terribly cruel as well. More than once, she caught herself staring at those tiny hands no bigger than the hands of a four-year-old Mermaid.
But even if they were the size of Yeturi claws, considering this one’s lot in life, would it matter?
Of the age when she should be in the throes of childhood, this grand time of every life appeared far away from the girl’s grasp. It had obviously passed the little Sapien by or possibly never even revealed itself to those charming pale blue eyes.
Yet here she was!
Delightful as one bathed in grime could be and chatting the morning away with the next Mermaid queen, she looked upon Evagoria just as a youngling should: A trusting look, a comforting look – as if they were lifelong friends. Lifelong friends who now heard approaching shouts from down the hall.
A sudden fear carved itself into the little one’s face. Eyes – wary.
“I am to be hidden,” she said in a skittish voice as she sprung from the bed. “Never to be seen or heard by any but my own.”
“At least tell me your name?” Evagoria begged. She could hear clearly the voices of her father and grandfather.
The hopeless look that now stared back made it obvious to Evagoria that this was not the first time another asked for the little girl’s name just before she had to resume hiding. Queen Marseea’s booming voice made it obvious she drew near as well.
Eyes – TERRIFIED.
“I am … I am,” tears began to flow and her little body shook, “not to be seen, not to be heard – I have to go.”
Evagoria turned to face the forthcoming footsteps. The door flew open and the three she had heard along with Zacharias marched in. She offered her fakest smile, and then quickly turned back to the girl. A girl who was now either invisible or, more likely, suddenly gone.
“How you feeling?” Theodoric asked as he bent down and kissed Evagoria. Her grandfather offered a few kind words and kissed her too.
Zacharias resumed his place on her left side, but did not lay down this time. To reward him, she hugged him.
“I hope you slept well, Princess.”
“Oh, I did! Very much so, my friend.” With a kiss to Zacharias’ cheek, Evagoria now watched the Sapien queen.
And kept watching….
A look of curious suspicion swept over Marseea’s face. She wandered about the room, inspected the silk cloth covering Evagoria’s splint, and then wandered about the room a second time. Evagoria struggled to hear and answer questions the others asked of her as she kept her eyes on the Sapien queen, but continued to watch.
Finally, Marseea stood just behind Zacharias. She then touched the sunflower. Next, she set her eyes on the carved panda. Arms crossed, smoky eyes turned into embers, lips much too luscious for any creature two plus centuries old turned thin, and a whisper filled with spite spilled past these lips:
“Scutaria.”
*****
The sunflower gifted to her dead, the scrumptious apple shared and gone, Evagoria placed the carved panda in her pack as if it were a block of the purest gold. Zacharias having slept in her room last night, there would be no sunrise surprise today.
“Queen Marseea is taking proper care of me, Mother, but I do wish to be out of this room. Two nights is enough. Now that Penthesilea has said I need no more spells – are you bringing me back to our prefecture tonight?”
“I am,” Diedrika answered sweetly. “And then, after the festivals and conference are over, we will depart for Atagartis. But not by sky chariot. We are taking that pig, Laigria, with us and I have a feeling, just a hunch really, that she would much rather walk than fly.” Evagoria giggled at this. “A way to earn her keep, you could say.”
The di
stance between Antediluvium and Atagartis easily thirty leagues, Evagoria guessed it would take at least a week for a Sapien to make this journey by foot. The nasty woman was burly enough to grow hair on her chest, but by her heft, she did not look as if she had done a whole lot of walking in her life. Considering this, such a trip would most likely take even longer. Evagoria sighed. She wished she could accompany her family the whole way home, but the second leg of studies began just five days after the festivals ended.
Diedrika drew close. She then tilted her head and threw Evagoria a curious look. “But you did not bid everyone away just to ask me this now did you?”
“No, Mother, I did not.” Evagoria took in a deep breath. “Zacharias has acted, well, different, strange, since he fell and threw me off. Did you say something to him afterward? Possibly even scold him?”
“I did. And you would like to know what I said?”
Evagoria lifted her chin high. “Yes. And I want the truth.”
Diedrika shot her a stern look, raised a single eyebrow, and formed her lips into that pout none could duplicate, but everyone knew. Evagoria immediately knew why she got this look: To hide the truth – no matter why – the purest form of weakness, her mother NEVER lied.
“I am sorry, Mother.” Evagoria’s chin was no longer so high. “I know you would only tell me the truth. I just really want to know what you told him. As I said, he has acted odd since.”
“I told Zacharias,” Diedrika began slowly, “that if he ever fails you again when it really matters, it just might be his throat that pays for such failure.”
Evagoria gasped. “Oh, Mother, please – you would never do such a thing. You know this as much as I do.”
Diedrika moved even closer to Evagoria. “Of course, I do,” she said as if speaking to a frightened youngling. She stroked Evagoria’s hair, her eyes turned soft, and she smiled warmly.
The Gift From Poseidon: When Gods Walked Among Us (Volume 2) Page 40