by Lou Aronica
Sorbus nodded down the hallway. “She’s having her weekly open forum with her subjects.”
“The kingdom congress.”
Sorbus smiled again. “Yes, of course you would know what that was.” He seemed like a nice guy and Becky could tell from the way he talked that he cared a lot for Miea. “I’m sure Her Majesty would be happy to have you join her at the congress.”
“Really? That would be great.”
Sorbus gestured with his right hand. “Let me show you the way.”
Becky and Sorbus walked through the same hallway Becky had walked with Miea three days ago. Instead of turning toward the garden, though, they headed in the other direction. As they got closer, Becky heard the sounds of a large crowd murmuring and shuffling about. Sorbus took Becky through a closed door and suddenly Becky was “backstage” at the palace great room. Members of the palace staff moved briskly through the space, looking very determined to get things done. Though this was like the most incredible vacation imaginable for Becky, she realized lots of people here had serious jobs to do.
Sorbus led Becky to the edge of the stage, which wasn’t a stage at all but a huge, multitiered throne. Miea sat upon one ornately decorated chair while on the other sat two sashes, one of shimmering citrugrape and the other a shade of bronze that was bolder and more vivid than any she had seen before. Sorbus motioned for Becky to sit in a chair at the periphery of the throne, and when she did so, Miea turned and nodded to her with a sparkle in her eye before returning her attention to the subject in front of her.
Now seated, Becky had the opportunity to take in the magnificence of the great room. The ceiling was easily five stories high, and from the rafters bobbed glistening ornamental bubbles that popped when they hit the top, releasing a spray of smaller and more intensely colored bubbles that floated downward about a third of the way before beginning their ascent, growing in size, and repeating the pattern all over again. The walls in the hexagonal room were formed from a moldable crystal known as okanogan, and the hundreds of chairs that filled the floor were made from the same wispy winema she had seen the other day in the conference room. Between the lightness of the construction and the bubbles drifting in the air, it almost felt like the whole place was floating.
It was certainly bursting with life. Every chair held people dressed in various shades of the outfits she’d seen the other day, though several of them had taken to accessorizing them in surprising ways—with beads, twigs, a liquid-y/plastic-y substance that Becky didn’t know, and with various combinations of the three. More than humans filled the room, though. In the early days of Tamarisk stories, Becky and her father had created dozens of species to inhabit their world and gave all of them speaking roles. As she got older, Becky felt that talking animals—even if they were animals of her own invention—were too childish for her Tamarisk. She took away their voices, but she left several with their intelligence and even, for some, very sophisticated forms of communication. These species inhabited the great room as well. The angular, hairy, watchful carrizo. The tiny, flitting bird known as the norbeck, which had four beaks and just as many eyes. The regal, graceful katmai, capable of remarkable dexterity from its six huge paws.
Becky was so caught up in her admiration of the wonders around this room that she didn’t notice right away that the queen had concluded her business with the subject before her and had moved on to the next. A burly, weathered-looking man with a soft face bowed to her. He had a collection of young teenagers behind him.
“Your Majesty,” he said in a gravelly voice, “this group of youngsters is without question the finest I have ever coached. I’ve been involved with youth speedcatch for nearly thirty years and, as you know, our little town of Ribault hardly has the resources to compete with the larger towns for the kingdom championship. But this year we did it—and against a powerful team from Pinzon—because of the dedication of these kids. It is a pleasure to present them to you.”
The coach turned to face his team and the room broke into applause. Miea stood and, smiling broadly, opened her arms to welcome the team onto the throne. The kids—there must have been twenty of them—ran up and surrounded her while the coach followed behind slowly. An aide entered from the side carrying miniature versions of the bubble-things—Becky didn’t know what to call them because she hadn’t invented them—on a tray. The queen congratulated members of the team individually, attaching a bubble to each of their chests. When she did so, the bubbles started popping and reforming just the way they did on the ceiling. It was all very festive. When she reached the coach, Miea awarded him a larger bubble, which set off a more dramatic display that seemed to take him by surprise. The audience roared again.
“You probably don’t know this,” Miea said when she was finished, “but I had something of a junior speedcatch career myself. I’m afraid I wasn’t much help to the palace team, though. You’ve done the kingdom proud with your accomplishments and the victory of tiny Ribault will not be soon forgotten.”
Miea bowed toward the team, who bowed in return. The audience applauded loudly a third time and Becky found herself clapping as well. She wished she’d been around to see the tournament. Speedcatch, a game that involved running, throwing, and leaping while the opposition attempted to prevent you from doing the same, was a sport she’d created with her dad over the course of several weeks one spring. They’d even played a simplified version of it with some of the neighborhood kids a few times. Perhaps she’d get the opportunity to watch the professionals play it during some later visit.
The team made its way down from the throne and Becky waited for another person to step forward. When none did, Becky looked over at Miea, who had her eyes fixed skyward toward the back of the great room. Becky focused her attention in that direction, but couldn’t see anything. At last, she noticed a little norbeck flying in spirals toward the throne. The norbeck circled the throne twice, flew up toward the ceiling, and then landed on an unoccupied chair in the front row, covering its head with its wings.
Miea, sitting again, grinned. “Your entrances are always quite dramatic, Ostrya.”
An aide placed a wooden board on the chair and Ostrya landed upon it. It pecked the board with one beak, and then quickly turned its body to give two quick pecks with another beak.
“That’s very kind of you,” Miea said. Becky remembered that as a young princess Miea became fluent in the various communication methods of the nonhuman species in Tamarisk. She could obviously “talk” to Ostrya.
The norbeck pecked actively for the next several seconds, using all four of its beaks. Several in the audience murmured appreciatively.
“That’s very impressive, Ostrya. I had no idea the symphony was that close to completion.”
The norbeck pecked again, finishing this comment with a brisk rub of its right wing over its head.
“I’m sure you have been working on it nonstop,” Miea said.
The creature pecked once, extended its left talon, and tilted its head.
“Yes, I would love to hear a portion. I’m sure everyone here would.” Miea looked up at the crowd and the group applauded enthusiastically.
The norbeck pecked four times quickly and the room fell silent. From the ceiling behind Miea came a trilling chord. Then another came from the far end of the great room. Then another above Becky. Ostrya rose into the air and emitted three bold chords, using all four of its beaks to sound different notes in a voice that seemed like a combination of a flute and French horn. With this, dozens of norbecks appeared in the rafters, adding their voices to the symphony. The music was as much about motion as it was about sound, with notes and wild combinations of notes circling and diving around the room. At one point, a norbeck flitted a couple of feet in front of Becky’s head to offer a series of quick arpeggios before flying upward again. Then, all at once, the creatures sounded in unison, offering four majestic chords (Becky thought she recognized them as major sevenths) before falling silent.
For a moment, ther
e was no sound in the room. Then Miea stood and applauded and everyone—Becky included—stood and cheered along.
“That was magnificent, Ostrya,” the queen said. “If the rest of the symphony resembles this in any way, the kingdom will soon have a new treasure.”
Ostrya offered three quick pecks, once again covered its head with its wing, and then flew off briskly.
Becky felt emotionally charged by the musical experience. She loved music and had gone to more than her share of concerts, starting when she was very young, but the brief performance by the norbecks touched her in unfamiliar ways. It was almost as if she were feeling a new emotion, something that bordered on joy and confusion. It left her feeling physically heightened, the way she did after running or playing tennis. It took her a few moments to catch her breath.
As the room settled, a woman walked forward. She carried with her two husks of something that looked like corn.
“Your Majesty, my family has farmed the same land in Custis for five generations and it has never needed assistance from the palace before,” the woman said solemnly. “But I’m afraid our latest hardship is more than we can bear.”
Miea sat forward in her chair. “What has happened?”
“I’ve brought these to show you, Your Majesty.” The woman peeled back one portion of the husk and the entire thing collapsed. Nothing was inside other than a few gray specks that fell to the floor. The woman peeled the second husk and the same thing happened.”
Miea’s expression shifted dramatically. She almost seemed frightened. “You say this happened in Custis?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“The farmland closest to the palace.” Miea looked off to the backstage area Becky had entered earlier, though Becky couldn’t tell what or who she was looking for. “Do you have any idea how this happened?” Becky saw that Miea was genuinely worried. Her reaction seemed a little extreme. There had to be times when crops went bad, right?
“I’m afraid I do, Your Majesty.”
Miea seemed surprised by this response. “You do?”
“It’s those disgusting vilases, Your Majesty. They get inside of our crops and eat everything, leaving only the husk. They are the most evil pestilence in the kingdom.”
That sounded pretty awful to Becky, but the news seemed to relax Miea. She sat back and said, “I can understand your anger, but the vilas is not an ‘evil pestilence.’ This is how it lives.”
“It lives by destroying my family’s livelihood,” the woman said bitterly before catching herself and adding, “Your Majesty.”
Miea called upon one of her aides. “Please establish a subsidy for this woman and her family for the rest of the growing season. Also arrange for a team to go to her fields to extricate and redistribute the vilases.” She turned back to the woman. “They cause no problem when they are sparse. In fact, they can be quite beneficial. Unfortunately, they occasionally concentrate in one location . . . and you have seen the results.”
“Thank you for your help and generosity, Your Majesty.” The woman bowed and walked away.
Miea looked to the side of the stage, nodded, and stood. “Today’s congress is ended. I thank you all for coming and for sharing your thoughts, your contributions, and your concerns. Before we conclude, I would like to make an introduction.”
Miea looked over at Becky and gestured for her to stand. “Becky Astor has come to visit us from . . . a distant land. I ask you all to welcome her. She is an important friend of mine and she will be traveling throughout the kingdom. Please look upon her as a valued member of the palace.”
The crowd applauded. Becky wasn’t sure what to do, so she offered a little wave, which immediately made her feel silly. She pulled her hand back to her side and watched as Miea approached her.
“Welcome back,” Miea said. “I have a little time before my next meeting. Come join me.”
Becky settled onto the sofa while Miea asked Sorbus to bring them some refreshments. Miea rolled her neck and arched her shoulders. She seemed tight and uncomfortable. Becky imagined it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to be the center of a large crowd for a long period—and Miea did one of these every week. Becky had always liked public speaking, but this was way beyond that. She wondered how well she would hold up under the same circumstances.
“That was a total treat,” Becky said when Miea came to sit with her.
“It was a good congress today. I enjoy these sessions. They make me feel connected, and that makes me feel like I’m doing something.”
“Aren’t you doing something all the time?”
“In a manner of speaking. There are some portions of this role, though, where one considers it an accomplishment if you manage not to lose ground. Here I feel like we always move forward a little. I sometimes think that Tamarisk would be a much better place if I could just do a congress every day.”
Becky nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure she understood what Miea was saying. Everything seemed to run so well here. “Well, I found the whole thing amazing.”
Miea smiled. “I’m glad. That little piece of the nor-beck symphony was quite impressive, wasn’t it?”
Becky’s eyes widened. “I’ll say. I listen to a lot of music and I can definitely tell you I’ve never heard anything like that before.”
“Ostrya is a remarkable composer. He deserves every accolade he receives. There isn’t a human composer in the kingdom that can approach his inventiveness.”
Sorbus came in and placed a carved stone tray on the table near them. He handed Miea a wooden cup, which she held up to her face in both hands, allowing steam and tiny bubbles to brush her skin. He then handed Becky a crystal glass. The smell brought an instant memory of her last time in Tamarisk.
“I ordered you more barritts,” Miea said. “You seemed to like it.”
Becky took a sip. The taste wasn’t as surprising this time, of course, and she found she enjoyed it more. “I did. Though I definitely want to try everything.”
Miea tipped her cup in Becky’s direction. “Would you like some argo?”
“This is good for now, thanks.” Becky took another sip. Yes, there were definitely flavors from the bouquet garni in there. It was exciting to think of how many discoveries—and rediscoveries—waited for her in Tama-risk. She wanted to see everything she’d imagined come to life. And just as importantly, she wanted to see new things, to feel that she was a part of this place.
“So what do you do when you aren’t on queen duty?”
Miea chuckled softly. “I think I’m always on queen duty.”
“But you must get time off. Even the President of the United States—that’s the leader of the country I come from—gets to go to Camp David once in a while.”
Miea nodded. “I’m afraid there’s no camp for me. My last retreat was before my parents died. Since then, I haven’t had much time off other than sleep and the rare evening to myself.”
“That must be exhausting.”
Miea took a deep breath and rolled her neck again. “You get used to it.”
Becky couldn’t imagine what it would be like to go four years without a single day off. She thought it was tough when she had a lot of homework on the weekends and couldn’t go out until night. “Was it like this for your parents as well? Didn’t they ever have time to spend alone with you while you were growing up?”
“It was different for them. They had each other and they each had areas of responsibility. I have more aides than I can count, but I ultimately have to make every decision. I’ve never felt comfortable just getting away from everything.”
Becky put down her glass of barritts and pointed in Miea’s direction. “It seems there’s only one thing for you to do, then.”
Miea tilted her head. “And what is that?”
“You need to find yourself a king.”
Miea laughed loudly. It was the most girlish thing Becky had seen her do. In Becky’s imagination, the Miea of her Tamarisk stories was an extremely confi-d
ent teenager who still acted like a teenager. It was nice to see that she had some of this in her in real life.
“A king?” Miea said with astonishment in her voice. “As in a husband? Where am I supposed to get one of those?”
“Are you kidding? Did you look around the great room today? There were some gorgeous men out there.”
Miea gestured with both palms forward. “Yes, there were. Believe me, I noticed. There always are.” Her smile dimmed. “This kind of thing is very complicated for me, though. There’s so much for me to do. I don’t know how I’d ever begin a romance.”
Becky felt sorry for Miea. It seemed like she had to give up an awful lot because she was queen. This wasn’t what Becky had imagined for her. “So you’ve never been in love?”
Miea’s eyes clouded over. “I didn’t say that.” The queen looked down into her cup and then held it to her cheek.
“Can you tell me about him?”
Miea looked at Becky with an expression that confused her.
“Am I asking too many questions?” Becky said quickly.
Miea watched her cup of argo again and said, “No, not at all. It’s been a long time since anyone has asked me questions like these.”
“Then tell me about him.”
The queen smiled softly. “He was wonderful. We were wonderful together. And then events conspired.”
She said this with so much sadness in her voice. Becky had talked to a lot of people about their relationships—friends and her mother, mostly—but she had never seen someone look as regretful when they mentioned an ex-boyfriend. Lonnie seemed to break up with a different guy every other week and sometimes she got very emotional about the splits, but when she did, it was like a baby crying after falling down. You always knew she’d forget about it in a few minutes. Becky got the impression that Miea was never going to forget about losing this love.
“Do you know what happened to him?”
“I’m queen,” Miea said with a joyless laugh. “I know everything.”
Talking about boys with Lonnie definitely didn’t feel this way. Becky found this fascinating even as her heart went out to Miea. “Maybe you can hook up with him again.”