by Amy Neftzger
“Why did the lady in green say that we should tell the sea a story?” Kelsey asked Megan. The leopard stopped her efforts at fishing and sat down. “Sometimes the sea can be distracted by a good story and that will calm it. Sort of like mothers telling bedtime stories to infants. It can be soothing.”
Kelsey thought carefully. She wasn’t sure if she knew any good stories. After all, the sea might have very different taste in what it finds amusing.
“What kind of stories does the sea like?” Kelsey asked.
“The same things that most people enjoy, I suppose,” Megan answered. “People like to laugh. Perhaps you can tell it a funny story.” Kelsey tried to recall any humorous stories. She didn’t think she knew very many. Back in her village, a lot of people were suffering, and there wasn’t much laughter. On her journey, also, there had been a lot of interesting things, but most of it involved frustration and trouble. She couldn’t think of anything that she thought was funny. Then she remembered a story that had made others laugh, so she stood up to tell it. She turned to look out over the water and cleared her throat.
“There once was a girl who purchased some bad memories. She was trying to find a miracle, and she thought that if she could gain wisdom quickly, that she could find a miracle faster,” Kelsey began by shouting to the waters. “So she bought the most foul-smelling memories she could afford. They were horrible, rancid memories of the worst kind. But the girl didn’t have enough wisdom to learn from other people because she hadn’t learned enough on her own to know what she needed.” Kelsey paused because it seemed to her that the wind and waves were slowing down a bit. She took another deep breath and started up again. “The girl didn’t even know enough to watch her step as she left the shop because as soon as she was on the sidewalk, she fell and shattered the memories. They escaped and went everywhere. Then the girl felt like dying because the memories that she thought would make things easier for her were so very awful.”
Kelsey paused as she felt the waves decreasing in size. She thought that perhaps the sea found the story interesting, so she kept going. “Maybe those memories smelled worse to the girl because they weren’t really hers. I don’t know. She was foolish, though. She had been looking for hope and miracles, and there she was stuck in despair. Then out of nowhere came a little orphaned mute who knocked her off her feet into a stand of pepper melons. The boy had to hit her hard enough to knock her out of the cloud of despair and back to her senses. If he didn’t hit her with enough force, he might get caught up in the bad memories also. So he pushed her into the melons, and all the melons broke. The girl was covered in sticky melon juice for the rest of the day and she hated it. Flies were even following her. And some bees. She looked like an idiot.” As Kelsey finished the story, the sea was calm. A faint echo of laughter bounced off the top of the waves as the ship rolled gently along.
“I always knew the sea enjoyed hearing about the misfortunes of others,” Megan whispered discretely to Kelsey.
“It seems that most people do, also.”
“In any case, I’m glad you told the story. Roland will get better shortly, and you probably feel better for having told it.”
“It feels better to be the one telling the story than finding out that someone else has told it about me,” Kelsey replied.
“That’s because when you own the story, it no longer owns you. You’re free because you made the choice to tell the truth about what happened.”
“Roland spoke about choices a little while ago.”
“Choices are powerful things. In fact, they’re more powerful than most things.”
“It’s difficult to make choices when you don’t know what’s real,” said Kelsey.
“That’s when choices have the most power because they’re based on faith.”
“It’s just that when I look around me, I see so many different perspectives, and reality is always changing. Sometimes it feels like there are too many different worlds.”
“There is only one world, but it has many faces,” Megan replied. “Remember that, Kelsey. We’re almost to the other side of the sea, and you’ll need to guide Silence to the orphanage. He will need you.”
“I know,” Kelsey nodded as she spoke. “I’ll get him there safely.” She thought about the sailor who had tried to take him away. The boy was street smart, but he was still small and Kelsey could be of some use to him. “He’s a good kid, and he needs me. But I also needed him. I understand that now.”
***
Two days later they were back on land and had traveled through a small stretch of flat fields before coming to the edge of another forest to the east. Roland turned to Kelsey and kissed her once on each cheek to say goodbye.
“We’re headed north,” he said. “The orphanage is inside this forest to the east. You’re almost there.”
“Roland, I’ll miss you.” Kelsey felt like crying as she spoke. Megan stepped forward and held up her paw. Kelsey limply slapped a high five, and Megan rolled her eyes in disappointment. The leopard turned to Silence, who enthusiastically jumped up to smack the leopard’s paw with the force of his whole body. He was smiling broadly as he landed on his feet.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Megan nodded to Silence with satisfaction. “You have spunk, kid. I like that about you.” He ran forward and threw his arms around the leopard as far as he could, but his arms were much too short. He hugged her briefly and then shook Roland’s paw firmly before he turned away to enter the forest.
“Remember what the blue sister said about learning to behave well in case the king or one of his officials came about?” Megan called after them. Kelsey turned around again.
“I haven’t seen the king!” Kelsey said as she threw her arms up in the air and shrugged.
“Well, I work for the king. I’m one of his officials,” Megan explained. “That’s how the blue sister knew me.” Kelsey dropped her arms and stared in disbelief. She had no idea Megan was anyone of importance. She struggled to remember everything Megan had done or said while they were together, and she wondered why the leopard had spent so much time with them. Was it simply because Megan liked Silence so much?
“Why were you here?” Kelsey asked as Megan was turning to leave with Roland.
“I’m a healer. I came here to heal you,” Megan said as she glanced back.
“But I’m not broken,” Kelsey insisted.
“Not anymore,” Megan replied coolly as she turned away again. “The worst kind of brokenness is the kind that you don’t know you have. But you’re much stronger now, and you’ll be fine.”
“I thought you couldn’t heal anyone who didn’t want to be healed.”
“But you did want it,” Megan answered knowingly. “You just didn’t know you needed it.” She walked a few more steps and shouted without turning around, “And you’re welcome.”
Then Megan was gone, and Roland went with her. As Kelsey turned to walk into the forest, she could still feel the warm kisses of Death on her cheeks.
Chapter Nineteen
In The Garden
Mr. Portnoy was excited to be measuring the children for gardening uniforms. This was an uncommon assignment, and he hadn’t sewn a pair of coveralls in nearly five years. It was rare for anyone new to be given work in the garden, so he was unprepared for the request to make them uniforms. He wasn’t even sure that he had the correct fabric, but he managed to find something that would be durable enough.
The tailor was so full of energy as he took measurements that he appeared to be dancing as he moved about. He had already measured Nicholas, and he showed no sign of slowing down as Jovan stepped up in front of the mirrors for his turn. The children, however, weren’t nearly so excited about their new jobs. In fact, they were still debating whether the assignment was a demotion.
“Clothes make the man,” Mr. Portnoy announced as he measured Jovan carefully. “You’ve grown!” he exclaimed as he studied the list of measurements on his clipboard. “Perhaps your clothes are ma
king you a man,” he added with an amused smile. Jovan grinned politely and went to sit down with Nicholas as Maggie was measured. “What an exciting assignment,” Mr. Portnoy continued. “Clothes make the woman, but I have a feeling that you were made for this job,” he assured her.
“I don’t know,” she responded hesitantly. “This could be a difficult line of work. I’ve never done gardening before.” She knew Nicholas was responsible for keeping both Hope and Droopsilla alive. Her goal for the new assignment was to avoid getting in the way as much as possible. She was better at blowing things up than making them grow.
“It doesn’t matter how difficult it is,” the tailor replied. He leaned closer and then whispered quietly to her. “We’re always saying that clothes make the woman. But the truth is, the woman makes the clothes by the choices she makes. When you decide that you can do something, you dress the part and believe you can do it. Success is nothing more than belief in action. The clothes are only part of the equation. The rest is your faith in yourself. I think you can do it.”
Maggie nodded. She thought she understood but wasn’t sure. Everyone inside the orphanage repeated the same phrases over and over. Mr. Portnoy was one of the very few people who seemed to think for himself. He also seemed to understand more.
“Why don’t they allow children into the garden?” Maggie asked.
“For their protection, really. The miracles are valuable, and anyone who has access to them is at risk of being attacked.”
“You mean, like, by the sorcerer?”
“Everyone wants the miracles,” he continued. “Not just the sorcerer. People see miracles as easy answers to tough situations. But they were never meant for that. That’s why we have to guard them carefully.”
“Are the locks on the garden that strong?” she asked.
“The locks are strong, but the enchantments are what keep the orphanage secure,” he explained. “They’re so secure that not even the other seasons can enter the grounds.”
“That’s why it’s always autumn,” Maggie said more to herself than to anyone else. She couldn’t exactly remember other seasons, but it sounded right that there should be more than one.
“Yes,” he replied. “Sometimes I miss the seasons, but I don’t miss the thieves we used to get. Everyone wants a miracle, and everyone knows we have them.” He danced around Maggie as he measured her height one more time. “Those enchantments were the best thing the guardians ever did, if you ask me.”
“Is that why we never have any visitors?”
“I never noticed that,” Mr. Portnoy said as he paused in his measuring activities and checked his clipboard. “But you’re right. No one has visited in a very long time. Not even the king.”
“Can anyone get in?”
“We’ve had a few new children arrive, but that’s about all. Not like it was before the enchantments. People used to come and go. They brought gifts sometimes, too. Other times they just wanted a miracle.”
Maggie thought about this information. It felt nice that they were so safe, but it also felt scary that they were so isolated. She shivered as she looked up at the sign above the door. She noticed that the outside of the door had said “Industria” but the sign on the inside said “Temperantia.”
“Mr. Portnoy,” she said after pausing for a moment. “You’ve been at this orphanage a long time.”
“All my life. Like most of the workers, I was raised here.”
“And you know a lot about this place, don’t you?”
“I suppose.”
“Do you know what those words above the doors mean?” Maggie asked as she pointed to the plaque above the door.
“What words?” he asked as he looked up to see where she was pointing.
“Those words,” Maggie answered when his eyes settled above the door “There are different words all over the orphanage. Well,” she interrupted herself, “some of the words are the same, but it’s only a handful of words in total. There’s one word on each sign, and these signs are everywhere.”
“I forgot those were there,” he replied as he stared blankly at the letters. “I remember noticing them when I was a child. I supposed I’ve gotten used to having them there, and I don’t pay attention to them anymore.”
“Do you know what they are? Or why they’re there?”
“I have no idea,” he answered in a baffled tone. “But I don’t remember a time when they weren’t there. Perhaps they were only decorations or instructions for the builder ... or notes from the builder on something. Maybe it has to do with the plumbing?”
“Thank you.” Maggie turned away to join her friends. Even if Mr. Portnoy once knew what the words meant, his time in the orphanage had erased the meaning. Maggie was beginning to think that no one knew what the words meant anymore.
***
Nicholas felt goose bumps as the garden doors were unlocked and the fingers of a warm breeze reached into the orphanage. The stream of air drew him onto the stone path and left him feeling unsteady. The light reflecting off the stones was so brilliant that he couldn’t see, and he stumbled. He recovered his balance, but quickly sat down and shielded his eyes from the glare. Everything about the place was disorienting. The miracles had appeared beautiful through the glass of the closed windows, but now that he was among them, he felt saturated with too many different ideas and emotions. The air was thick with a richness that reminded him of drinking a cup of thick, creamy hot chocolate.
“I feel as if I’ve been spinning in circles for too long,” Maggie remarked as she staggered forward.
“Move slowly at first,” Taro cautioned. “Miracles can be overwhelming, especially when you experience them in such magnitude.” Maggie fell over from the dizziness and started to laugh. Jovan slumped down next to her on the path and covered his eyes. His entire body felt heavy.
“I feel weak,” he announced, “but I have no desire to feel stronger.”
“How are we supposed to work here?” Nicholas asked as he tried to squint. “It’s so bright that I can’t see anything. I can’t open my eyes, and I can barely move!”
“Give it time,” Taro said. The effect of the garden was not as strong on him, and he waited patiently for the children to adapt. “Because it goes against the natural order, a single miracle can have the weight of a thousand life experiences. Here you have millions of miracles.” Taro was tired, but he was still sitting upright. He was the only one who could do so.
“I can’t even think straight,” Jovan remarked as he squinted his eyes. “And what is that strong fragrance? It smells ... sweet but not sugary.”
“Just relax and allow yourself to become acclimated,” Taro encouraged them. “We’re not in a hurry.” He took out a book and started reading to pass the time.
It took six hours before any of the children could sit up. Nicholas was the first to open his eyes, but he couldn’t yet stand. Maggie was the last to open her eyes, but the first to feel the energy of the place. At first it was invigorating, but she quickly tired. The energy she had taken in quickly turned to fatigue, and she was exhausted from the short period of elation. It felt like a roller-coaster ride of pure energy. Nothing was accomplished that day because the children weren’t yet able to function. They spent the entire time getting used to the presence of the miracles. Even learning to be near the miracles seemed to be a job in itself.
After another day, the three children could sit up and look around the garden, but they still felt very dizzy. At the end of the week, they still couldn’t take more than a handful of steps at a time. Their strength would come and go, and they had barely moved a few feet into the garden.
“This is taking too long,” said Jovan with annoyance in his voice. “Whatever we’re expected to do won’t be accomplished at this rate.”
“If there’s one thing we have, it’s time,” Taro replied serenely.
“How do we know how much time we have? We don’t even know what we’re doing. I don’t think anyone does in this place.”
“You don’t always need to know what you’re doing to accomplish something, Jovan,” Taro insisted.
“But we don’t have a goal.”
“Your goal is to grow your miracle so that you can prove it’s a real miracle.”
“Which one is our miracle?” Nicholas asked as he tried to stand up.
“I have no idea,” Taro shrugged. “I’m not allowed in the garden very often, either.”
“How are we supposed to take care of it if we don’t know where it is?”
“I’m not sure that anyone has thought about that.”
“No one teaches and no one thinks in this orphanage,” Jovan remarked in frustration. “Am I the only one who sees a problem here?”
“We’re thinking,” Taro responded calmly.
“I’m not,” Maggie interjected. “I’m just annoyed.” The miracles around her provided more sensation than she could tolerate, and her heightened emotions swayed in various directions. She didn’t know what to do with all the energy she was feeling.
“It’s a needle in a haystack,” Jovan remarked as he glanced around. “It’s so bright in this garden that it’s difficult to see anything.”
“It doesn’t matter if we can see or not,” Maggie said with a sad expression on her face. “Because we can’t walk or move around. This garden is paralyzing us.”
“It’s a place of miracles and we can’t move around very easily,” Nicholas thought out loud. “This makes the miracles useless, doesn’t it?” The silence after that question was very long.
“This isn’t really a garden because nothing is growing here,” Jovan added. “It’s more like a prison designed to keep the miracles captive.”
“Why are there so many here?” Nicholas asked. “If these are supposed to be for the king, why isn’t he using any of them? Does he want to lose the war? Is that why he’s keeping the miracles locked up?”