by ILIL ARBEL
“You could teach me to do that?”
“Absolutely. What is magic? It is the act of controlling reality with one’s mind. Nothing is easier than changing your looks – it’s your own body, it will easily obey. Much easier than changing a landscape, for instance. Try singing a swamp away sometimes! I have to do it all the time for my people, and it’s exhausting, believe me. But you wanted to see yourself at various stages. Just direct the ages you want to view into the mirror.”
“You could plant Eucalyptus trees to drink away the swamps and save your strength … but show me my image at fourteen.” The image was slimmer than the way she was at thirteen, no braces, skin much better, hair a little longer, but the same color, glasses still on.
“Sixteen.” Good figure, long, darker hair, no glasses, clear skin.
“That’s fine,” sighed Donna with supreme satisfaction. “I have something to live for.” Taliesin laughed.
“You cheer me up even without the St. John’s Wort. I can’t believe I am actually laughing. I will miss you when you are gone.”
“Can’t we keep in touch? I do have to bring you the medicine, if everything is all right again,” said Donna hesitantly.
“You will have to call me, because I am from your past,” said Taliesin. “I will give you my coordinates, and then you can visit whenever you want.”
“Only if you tell me that it’s all right, Mr. Taliesin.”
“Mr.? Oh, no, don’t call me that! It’s traditional to call wizards by their first name, without glorification. Besides, you let me call you by your first name, without a title. I don’t call you Lady Donna.”
“But you are so important, and older than me.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirteen.”
“Then I am not that much older. I am seventeen, in my reality, and I don’t consider myself important. And you, perhaps, may cure me of my curse of sadness, so you are my friend. Doesn’t that make you just as important?”
“Well, maybe a little bit … but there is something else … well … you are so very handsome, you know …”
“Ah. Shape and beauty again. Who cares? I am a shape changer, remember? The body is less important to me than the soul. Does it really make a difference?”
“Sort of. It’s like being a groupie. Do you know what a groupie is? It’s someone who follows rock stars everywhere. I don’t like acting like that.”
“I am not sure I understand how rock stars and groupies behave. But I do know we can be great friends. You seem to understand the sadness, and talking to you makes me feel good.”
“Can you tell me this awful legend, or is it too private, Taliesin?”
“I can tell you. Everyone knows it in Wales, where I come from. Before I was born, my mother gave birth to an incredibly ugly son. I don’t know the details, but they say he was half man, half animal, maybe with a pig’s snout. She wished to give him happiness by making him wise. Using various herbs, she created a special potion that would give him remarkable wisdom. Unfortunately, a young assistant magician tricked her and drank the potion himself. Mother chased the thief for days. He made himself extremely clever by drinking this potion, and both of them were expert shape-changers, so the chase was fast and furious. They constantly changed, taking the shapes of various animals or plants. Finally, he found a heap of barley, turned himself into a single grain and mixed with the rest. But there was no escape – Mother was just too good. She saw which grain was really the young magician, turned into a bird and ate the grain.
So now she carried the magic seed inside her. When she turned back into a woman, she realized she was pregnant – the seed turned into a baby. She swore to kill it as soon as it was born, because she felt it may revive the vicious assistant as her son. But instead, they say she gave birth to a boy so beautiful, so glowing and sweet, that she could not keep her vow. I guess I was a cute baby, despite being born of magic and pain. Unlike the dishonest assistant magician I replaced, I try to be good and faithful, and I am loved by my people and obeyed by the elements. But I carry this pain with me forever. I have never sung any song of joy.”
“Well, I can see why you can’t ask your mother about it. I wouldn’t dare ask my mother, either. There are so many parts of this legend that are really scary. But still, maybe it’s just a story, and I don’t see why you should pay such a high price, even if it were true. You did nothing wrong – all that stuff happened before you were born! So I’ll find you some St. John’s Wort, and I must say, in my century we have a marvelous new collection of other herbs and things that can help you, Taliesin. And then you can write some happy songs. I really want to hear you sing, anyway.”
“Great. Here, I will write my coordinates for you on this piece of leather. When all of this is over, we will absolutely and certainly meet, and I will be happy to sing for you. Maybe, just maybe, in time I can do some songs of joy. I want to so much …”
“Say,” said Donna, trying to divert him. “Just for fun, show me how you do shape-changing.”
Taliesin laughed. “All right,” he said, and disappeared. Next to her sat a lemur, resembling Gilbert in every detail. Donna jumped, and the real Gilbert leapt off her shoulder and stared at the newcomer with deep suspicion. The two lemurs started prowling around each other, and in a few seconds Donna could not tell the difference. She stood, gaping in disbelief, as Vainamoinen and Shape-Changer returned to the cave. Vainamoinen glared at the two lemurs. His air of controlled resolution scared Donna a little and he sensed it.
“Don’t be afraid of me, girl,” he said gruffly. “I am sorry for my behavior. Standing aside and letting others take the danger is destroying me, and yet I must obey the Code.”
“I understand,” said Donna. “Taliesin explained the Code to me and I am beginning to see what you mean, Mr. Vainamoinen – I mean Vainamoinen – he said I should call you by your first name only.”
The wizard laughed. “Yes, we are so proud that we pretend to be humble, ah, Shape-Changer? Never mind. We did think about something while Taliesin spent his time turning into a small beast!”
“He was very helpful, actually,” said Donna loyally. “There is so much I understand better now …”
Vainamoinen laughed. “Children will be children, as we say in Finland! Shape-Changer told me that you had been separated from two flying animals, and that the Vizier put them in a desert environment that you saw at this funny house in Great River. I think I know where he took them.”
“You mean he removed them from that reality altogether? But why would he do that?”
“You see, the Vizier’s birthplace is a reality called Borderland, a place where magic is commonplace. Not very strong magic since it is spread out too thinly, but this is where he had started his studies, of course, and where he has many friends. Also, various animals of magical nature exist in Borderland, so it would be easy to take your friends there without attracting much attention.”
“Is this where Camellia and Bartholomew were born? I saw no other flying beasts in Great River.”
“Very likely. The Vizier probably sent them back there to be jailed by some of his spies. I think he does not dare to kill them, because despite his command over Great River and its queen, he knows that if any of us becomes angry enough to break the Code he will be finished. When he abducted Yolanda, I was close to doing exactly that. I could eliminate him with such ease …” he clenched his fist.
“Can’t I go with Donna?” said one of the two lemurs seriously. “I have been to Borderland, you know.”
“Don’t be stupid, my boy,” said Vainamoinen, kindly. “Who are you trying to cheat? The Code can’t be changed. You may only go to Borderland when someone from their reality summons you, and stay the prescribed time. You know that.”
“Will you at least let me sing into her crystal?”
“We both will,” said Vainamoinen. “Can’t be too careful. But will you please change back into your normal self? Donna, hand me your crystal. We will mak
e this crystal very easy to use, so easy, in fact, that you will not even need coordinates to get from one reality to another.”
She took the crystal out of its pouch and put it on a rock between them. Taliesin resumed his shape, touched the strings of his harp, and burst into a song. His magnificent voice swelled like waves into air and water and stone. Vainamoinen began producing a sound that combined the sighing of the wind, the call of sea birds, and the twinkling of raindrops on water. Their sounds merged, expanded, rolled. Space seemed to disappear, only the music remained. Mist and rain from Taliesin’s land, wind and snow from Vainamoinen’s filled the air, enveloping Donna with coolness and grayness and song. Time stood still. The universe contained nothing but the glorious sound. Then unexpectedly it stopped, and she came back to reality, confused and disoriented.
The crystal changed colors. It turned smoky and slightly warmer to the touch.
“You will meet strange animals there,” said Taliesin. “Don’t be frightened of them. It’s just their shape, and I hope I have convinced you that shape matters less than you think. Many of them are extremely kind. Beware of the humans, though. Some of them are not too honest.”
“Are they terribly dangerous?” asked Donna.
Taliesin sighed. “I wish I could go with you. You have no idea how much I wish I could protect you.”
“Don’t scare the little Wicca, my boy,” said Vainamoinen. “She has to do it. There is no other way. And like her aunt, she has courage, right, girl?”
“I hope so, Vainamoinen. I must find Aunt Yolanda.”
“Yes, girl. Find her, find her. The world without that Witch is just not the same –”
“Time to go, Donna,” interrupted Shape-Changer abruptly, as usual sensing how she felt. “You will find your animal friends there, and the three of you will go back to Great River and complete your mission. All will be well.”
“Can you walk me through it? It’s easier this way,” she said, shouldering her backpack and picking up Gilbert. “Good bye, Vainamoinen. I will find Aunt Yolanda. Good bye, Shape-Changer. I know we will meet again soon. Aunt Yolanda will find a way to help your people. Good bye, Taliesin. I will bring you the medicine, some day, I promise.” Her voice broke a little and she hugged Gilbert tightly. “Thank you for everything, all of you.”
“Donna, gaze at the crystal,” said Shape-Changer quietly.
Remembering not to blink, she gazed.
“Donna, imagine a desert. Imagine a beautiful, colorful desert, not like Great River.”
Red sky over golden sand. Marvelous palm trees in a gigantic oasis. Tents made of purple and blue material. Horses, camels, people wearing exotic clothes and golden jewelry.
“Donna, imagine a sea. Blue and shining.”
Sapphire sea. High waves, crested with white foam with green, turbulent stripes. White sandy beach.
“Donna, imagine beautiful flowers. Lilies, roses, jasmines, carnations. Lush gardens, well kept, lovely orchards, full of fruit.”
A huge rose garden, bordered by immense orange trees, the fragrances mingling in the warm air, borne on a soft breeze.
“Donna, the name is written in the crystal. Repeat the name. Borderland.”
Borderland.
She swayed, lost her balance and Gilbert held tightly to her hair as the hot, humid wind slapped her face and the brilliant light overwhelmed her eyes.
Chapter 8
Donna stood in the midst of a large crowd of people, on a reddish dirt road as wide as two big city avenues put together. On one side of the road stretched a brilliant sapphire sea, on the other side, saffron-yellow cliffs, as tall as skyscrapers, gleaming against the bright cerulean-blue sky. The scene was bathed in a light so intense, so golden, that everything stood out in a sharp contrast and almost without shadows. Donna rubbed her eyes as they smarted in the sudden brilliance and oppressive heat.
No one paid attention to her despite the fact that she balanced a lemur on her head, probably because most people on this road presented an even stranger image. They wore varied outfits. Long embroidered robes and giant feather head dresses, medieval suits of armor, white draperies that vaguely reminded Donna of Ancient Greece, khaki military uniforms and hats that could imply the French Foreign Legion but not exactly – she couldn’t really identify any of them. Many animals strolled along as well. The fake Legionnaires swayed on camels, the medieval knights rode magnificent horses, and a few children sat in elaborate wicker structures mounted on a procession of elephants. Small herds of sheep and goats wandered everywhere, some of them ridden by monkeys wearing smart red and gold uniforms decorated with large tassels on their shoulders. One woman held a cheetah-like animal on a golden leash, but the creature had an almost human face. It grinned at Donna as it slithered along, showing sharp, yellow teeth. Five large, white, elegant Afghan hounds, each with a single horn on its head like a mythological unicorn, followed a man dressed in an old Russian outfit, complete with a tall fur hat, leather boots, and a fur-lined robe. Donna wondered how he could stand the heat.
The wide road allowed everyone to walk or ride comfortably in both directions, without any crowding or haste. The complete absence of wheeled vehicles probably helped. Nevertheless, since everyone walked more or less purposefully, Donna felt that standing still might attract attention, so she fell in with the crowd and started walking. Gilbert tapped her head nervously with both paws, glared at a passing zebra and made threatening sounds like a small dog. “Stop, Gilbert,” said Donna, nervous herself. “No use alerting the inhabitants –” when she suddenly realized that the zebra had wings, neatly folded on each side of its back and supporting the rider, a mysterious person completely shrouded in black veils.
The winged zebra reminded her to check on flying animals. Lifting her eyes to the sky involved some effort because of the extremely strong light, but she shaded her eyes with her hands and attempted it. The sky was full of unidentifiable flying objects. If Camellia and Bartholomew flew there, they were lost in a crowd of their own.
The road seemed to stretch forever. However, smaller roads connected to it occasionally, and people got off the main road to follow them. These secondary roads wound in such a circular way as to prevent Donna from seeing where they led, but invariably they turned away from the sea. The wide, deserted beach, therefore, presented a good place for resting. It would give her privacy to gaze into her crystal and try to connect with Camellia and Bartholomew.
She settled on the soft sand under a small cliff that hid her from the multitude on the road. Gilbert climbed down into her lap and tapped the backpack, so she gave him food and water and drank some herself, the extreme heat preventing her from feeling any hunger. Looking around, she noticed that small trees, not much bigger than bushes, grew directly in the sea. Intrigued, she walked to examine one of them, as she knew that most trees could not survive the large content of salt usually present in seawater.
It had gray bark and contorted branches, covered with conifer-like foliage. Yellowish-green gourds, the size of a large watermelon, hung limply over the waves. She touched one of them gingerly, and to her surprise it began to move and shake gently. Shaking faster and faster, it suddenly cracked open. White, fluffy, silky material lined the inside, supporting the plump, red-green body of a small duck and firmly attached to its bill. The duck hung on for about five minutes, drying its feathers in the strong sun and flapping its wings vigorously. Then it let go of the gourd’s lining, dropped with a thud into the sea and expertly swam away. Another fruit started shaking.
Well, she thought, shrugging her shoulders, they told you the place crawled with magical animals, but still, a duck tree! Botany would never feel the same. She came back to Gilbert and was about to take the crystal out and start gazing, when she suddenly noticed a movement in the brilliant sky high above her. Something, or someone, flew above her, and for a moment she dared to hope that perhaps Camellia and Bartholomew somehow knew she sat on the beach. However, she observed five objects in the sky, an
d much too large, even at this distance.
The objects descended slowly and leisurely, and after a few minutes became easier to see. Five flying carpets, each supporting two or three women, hovered above Donna. She rubbed her eyes, but the things just stayed there, hovering. Well, she thought, if flying camels, why not flying carpets? The carpets bobbed and settled around her precisely and delicately.
The woman wore costumes that came straight from the stories of the Arabian Nights. Silk and jewels and gold from head to toe, tassels and embroidery and shawls and pointed shoes, the colors giving Donna a headache. “Welcome,” said one of the women sweetly. “Welcome to Borderland. We offer you hospitality and would like you to come and stay at the palace.”
“How did you know I came here?” asked Donna. She no longer even questioned the queer fact that she understood every language in these insane realities.
“My husband saw you in the crystal ball,” said the woman. “I am the wife of the Vizier –”
“The Vizier!” screamed Donna and jumped to her feet. “No way, I’m not going!”
“Oh, I am sorry, my dear. I did not mean the Evil Vizier of Great River. My husband is Jaafar, Vizier to the great Haroun-al-Rashid, blessed be his name, our magnificent and benevolent Caliph …”
“Oh, sorry,” interrupted Donna. “I didn’t mean to be rude. But you know Great River –”
“Everyone knows about the unhappy place, and I have special reasons to hate the Evil Vizier,” sighed the woman and touched her eyes with an embroidered silk handkerchief, permitting clouds of perfume to float around her. Donna sneezed. “Come, my dear, sit on the carpet and let’s go to the palace.”