‘For the past thousand years there has been a succession of Kings who looked after the Kingdom of Pafir and its city,’ he began. ‘Each King was wise and strong and loved by his people. And the Kingdom flourished.’
Lord Taku paused and Lady Butterfly refilled his cup from a little clay teapot shaped like a lotus flower.
‘The King who rules us today was also once kind and wise,’ Lord Taku continued, ‘but he was also weak. After he married he had a son who was an adventurous boy. The Queen died when the boy was young, and the King was devastated. So he lavished all his love upon his only child. The young prince would go riding in the forests that surrounded the City of Solace to hunt wild animals – deer, boar and birds – with his bow and arrow.’
Oriole did not like to hear about hunting. She put her hand up to her throat.
‘One day the young prince heard about a forest far away at the borders where the Kingdom of Pafir meets the neighbouring Kingdom of Nanor. It was said that the Forest was filled with rare and exotic birds whose feathers dazzled the eye. What a sight to see, he thought. How pleased my father would be if I returned with some of these beautiful creatures. And so, telling no one but his manservant who he took with him, and with his bow and arrows across his back and a dagger at his belt, the Prince quietly rode through the Western Gate.
‘They travelled for days along tracks barely visible until finally they reached the edge of a mighty forest. The chatter of birds excited the Prince after his long journey. He looked up and saw creatures of such vivid colours and of such strange design he was amazed. Some had long trailing tails, others wore feathery crowns on their heads.
‘As nightfall was fast approaching, they set up a temporary shelter. The Prince took off his bow and arrows and removed his belt and dagger and laid them beside him on the ground. Now, this dagger was a highly prized weapon. It had been in the royal family for hundreds of years and the King had presented it to the Prince on his eighteenth birthday only the week before. It was made of jade from the Kunlun Mountains and could cut through any metal with ease. But what was even more valuable were the precious stones embedded in its hilt. One jewel was an emerald, the other a ruby. Legend had it that if someone with the Sight looked into the stones they would see into the future, see the truth. However, in all the dagger’s long existence, only a handful of people had this ability, and neither the Prince nor the King did.’
Boy sat up tall in his seat as he imagined himself, a Prince sitting on a white horse with the magical dagger at his waist.
‘The next morning when the Prince awoke, he reached for his weapons. But they were not there. He turned to his manservant, who was feeding the horses, and asked if he had taken them.
‘“No, my Prince,” the manservant replied.
‘The Prince stood up angrily. “Someone else is in this forest. Quickly, saddle my horse.”
‘A short distance away from the camp, he found the precious dagger, then the bow and arrows. But every arrow had been snapped in two. Then, as he was returning to his camp, there came a beautiful song. So pure and clear was the sound the Prince was entranced. He felt immense joy as he thought how he would capture the bird and take it as a gift back to the King.
‘The Prince dismounted and beckoned to his manservant to circle one way while he circled the other. The song started again. The prince followed it. But it was as elusive as mist – first calling from the treetops and then from the undergrowth. After a day’s searching, the Prince and his manservant gave up as darkness was fast approaching. The manservant lit a fire and he and the Prince spent another night in the forest.
‘When he awoke the next morning the Prince found a brilliant turquoise feather lying beside him. As he turned it in his fingers it shimmered gold, then silver, then deep blue. Had the strange songbird dropped this feather? he wondered. Had it stood over him during the night and watched him sleep?
‘He decided to set a trap and made a lasso out of twine, which he laid in a circle on the ground. Breaking off some of the sweet bun they had eaten for breakfast, he placed it inside the lasso. Then with one end of the rope in his hand, the Prince hid behind a tree and waited. He waited all day and finally he heard the glorious song again. It drew closer and closer. The Prince’s eyes were wide with excitement and his fingers twitched against the rope. The ferns shuddered, then they parted. But walking towards him was not a bird at all, but a beautiful girl.’
‘A girl?’ Oriole whispered. Tears clouded her vision. ‘A girl who sang like a bird?’
Lord Taku’s eyes fell on Oriole and he nodded gently. ‘She was sixteen years old with long dark hair and brilliant green eyes. She wore a dress of golden thread that shimmered as she moved.’
Oriole touched her own dress without thinking.
‘The Prince watched the girl, hardly daring to breathe. The girl tiptoed forward, looking at the bun the Prince had left in the lasso. Then she stepped inside the rope.’
‘And did he get her?’ Boy asked.
‘The manservant nudged the Prince to draw tight the rope, but the Prince did not move.’
‘Why?’ Boy said. ‘Didn’t he want to catch her?’
‘Yes,’ Lord Taku replied. ‘But the Prince had fallen in love. When the girl saw the Prince hiding behind the tree she turned to flee.
‘“Wait,” the Prince called out in the gentlest voice he could. He did not want to frighten her. “Please, do not go.”
‘To his surprise the girl stopped and turned back slowly. She was not afraid of the Prince even though he was a hunter and had brought weapons to her forest.’
‘Why was she not scared of him?’ asked Oriole.
‘In the night she had gazed upon him while he slept. And do you know what had happened?’ Lord Taku smiled.
Oriole and Boy shook their heads.
‘She had also fallen in love. With the Prince.’
Lord Taku rested his arms on the table and leaned forward. He took a sip of tea and put the cup down gently. ‘The Prince sent his manservant home to tell the King that he had fallen in love and that he would not be returning to the Palace.
‘“Who is this girl?” the King demanded of the manservant. “Is she of royal blood?”
‘“No, Your High One,” the servant replied. “She is a girl who lives alone in the forest and sings like a bird.”’
Oriole touched her fingers to her lips.
‘The King turned to his Wishbird. Mellow had been sitting perched on the arm of the throne, listening quietly the whole time.
‘“What do I do, Mellow?” the King asked. He and the Wishbird were very close and he trusted Mellow completely. “How will I bring my son back?”
‘“You must not use force,” Mellow said. “That will only drive the Prince further away. Welcome this bird girl into the Palace.”
‘But the King was angry and this time he did not listen to his Wishbird’s advice. He ordered ten soldiers to go and capture the Prince and bring him home.’
‘Did they find him?’ Oriole asked.
Lord Taku shook his head. ‘The King, in desperation, then asked for my advice.’
‘You?’ Boy said confused.
‘I was Lord Chancellor in those days,’ he replied.
Oriole and Boy looked at each other in shock.
‘“Agree to their marriage,” I told him. “That is the only way.” But he sent his soldiers out again to try and bring the Prince back by force, for he believed that his son had been bewitched by the girl who sang like a bird.
‘Three more weeks passed. The soldiers once again returned empty-handed.’ Lord Taku let out a long sigh. ‘What happened next was a terrible tragedy. The King was so angered by this news that he bellowed, “Cut down the forests. Burn them out!”’
Oriole’s heart cried in pain.
‘Months turned into years as forest after forest was burned. A terrible sickness had come over the King. He was heartbroken and angry and turned on his city in despair. Any song or laughter reminded h
im of his son. So he ordered music be banned and all musicians be taken away in carts he had especially built. They came to be known by the people as the Song Stealer’s Carts.’
Boy sat up when he heard this, but he did not speak. He was watching Oriole, whose eyes glistened with tears.
‘Moreover, the King had every bird in the city killed. He told the townspeople to bang pots and pans so that the birds could not land, and when the poor creatures fell to the ground they were beaten to death with sticks and stones. Then he banished his Wishbird from the Kingdom.’
Oriole hid her face in her hands. Tears stained her dress of spider’s silk. Lady Butterfly stood up and went to sit beside her. She took Oriole’s small trembling hand in hers and held it to her.
‘But unbeknownst to the King, a baby was born to the couple. The Wishbird himself promised to look after her and hid her safely away in the Forest of Birds.
‘What happened to them, Lord Taku?’ Oriole finally whispered. ‘What happened to my parents?’
‘They were killed when the forests burned.’
It took a moment for the words to sink in. Then Boy stared at Oriole. ‘You mean the Prince is your father? Which means the King . . . ’ Boy gulped. ‘You are a princess, Oriole,’ he said in awe.
Mellow had been both mother and father to Oriole. Now she realised why he had never told her about them. If she had known of her parents’ death and her relationship to the King then she would never have felt she fully belonged in the Forest of Birds; she would have always been haunted by the Outside. He knew that should she ever set foot in the City of Solace, the King, her own grandfather, would have her put to death.
Lady Butterfly squeezed Oriole’s hand and went to make more tea and cut up some oranges and apples.
No one spoke for a very long while.
Then Boy said, ‘I have a question, Lord Taku.’ The sweet juice of an orange dribbled down his chin. He wiped it with his sleeve. ‘It seemed you knew that Oriole was coming, but how could you?’
‘It is written in a prophecy,’ said Lord Taku. ‘“In a time of great despair, a person of royal blood will deliver the Kingdom from its troubles.”’
He looked at Oriole.
‘But I do not have the power to make a dying King well or stop a Barbarian Army from invading,’ said Oriole. ‘Please tell me what I should do.’
Lord Taku stood. His body was bent, like an old tree heavy with snow. ‘I am sorry, child, but I do not have an answer for you.’
‘But Mellow will die, Lord Taku. I have to find a way.’
‘It saddens me that Mellow is so unwell, just as it saddens me that the King is ailing . . .’ Lord Taku swayed on his feet.
Lady Butterfly rose from her chair and went to him. ‘Children, Uncle is very tired. It is time for you to go.’ She gently escorted Lord Taku to a chair by the fire and covered his lap with a blanket.
‘Butterfly,’ he said, and pointed to the wall where there was a small cupboard. ‘It is time to give it to her.’
The sky outside had misted over and Oriole heard drops of rain on the roof.
Lady Butterfly looked at Lord Taku and a small frown appeared. ‘Uncle, are you sure? She is still so young.’
‘It belongs to her now,’ he replied.
Lady Butterfly took a brass key from a drawer and unlocked the cupboard door. She looked back at her uncle once, twice, as if giving him a chance to change his mind.
‘Everything will be all right, Butterfly,’ Lord Taku nodded. ‘She has wisdom. Mellow has taught her well . . .’
Lady Butterfly drew out something wrapped in orange brocade. Carrying it carefully, she set it down in front of Lord Taku.
‘Come, Oriole,’ Lord Taku said.
Oriole hesitated, strangely fearful, then straightened her shoulders and went to stand by his side. She looked at the wrapped object and gasped. She knew what lay beneath.
‘What is it?’ Boy asked.
‘My father’s dagger,’ she said as the cloth fell away.
The dagger was encased in a gold filigree sheath and it was exquisite. Oriole knew that daggers were used for killing and yet she could not help but admire its beauty – the two precious stones, the emerald and the ruby, seemed to glow against the pale jade blade.
‘Take great care of it, Oriole,’ Lord Taku said. ‘And guard it well. There are many who covet such a treasure. Maybe you have the Sight. Maybe you will see the truth in the stones and they will show you a way to save the Kingdom of Pafir and Mellow.’
‘I do not understand. Why do you have the dagger?’ Oriole asked.
‘When your father’s manservant returned from the forest, he brought the jade dagger with him. The Prince no longer felt the passion to hunt or kill. But the manservant also brought back something else even more precious.’
‘What was that?’ she asked.
‘A feather, a turquoise blue feather that came from your mother, Nightingale,’ Lord Taku replied. ‘I used to keep it in a silver box close to me always. But one day, when I was out in the streets, it was stolen.’
Boy’s mouth fell open and he flushed with heat. He stared down at his fingers. How could he tell Lord Taku that he was the one who had stolen it? He would be sent from the house immediately. Oriole would hate him.
‘My mother’s feather?’ Oriole said.
‘Yes,’ Lord Taku replied looking at Boy, knowingly.
There was a long silence that stretched across the room.
Boy didn’t dare raise his eyes as he put his hand up his sleeve and brought out the silver box. It didn’t belong to him. As much as he loved it, he knew he couldn’t keep it. ‘It was me who stole it,’ he said in a small whisper, and placed the box on the table. ‘I’m sorry, Lord Taku.’
‘Now our trust in you is complete, Boy,’ Lord Taku said, gently, and he nudged the box over to Oriole. ‘It is yours now, my child.’
Boy flushed as Oriole smiled at him and picked up the silver box reverently – it wasn’t the reaction he had expected and he felt a glow deep inside.
‘Come, children,’ Lady Butterfly said.
As they walked through the garden to the hole in the wall, Boy stopped. ‘Lady Butterfly,’ he said. ‘Have you heard of the Golden Note Studio?’
‘Why, of course. Master Rui and Madame Naa were two of the finest musicians in the city.’
‘They were my parents,’ he said.
Lady Butterfly looked at him sadly. ‘You must have great skill in those fingers, Boy.’
Boy reddened. He did not want her to know how he used that skill. ‘Are they still alive?’
‘My uncle has tried in vain to find out what happened to all the musicians, for many were his friends, including your parents. Lord Taku is a wonderful musician himself and taught me how to sing,’ Lady Butterfly said.
‘So it was you I heard the first time I came to your house,’ Boy said. ‘Why weren’t you and Lord Taku taken away too?’
‘My uncle and the King were childhood friends and used to play together in the Palace grounds. When the King ordered that all music be outlawed, he told Lord Taku to go into hiding, to stay in his house and not show his face in the city again. And he told me to take care of my uncle. We then built a wall around this house and garden . . .’
‘And made up the rumours about the Demon Monster and eating children?’ Boy said.
Lady Butterfly laughed. ‘We had to stop people from coming here.’ Then she grew sad again, her eyes distant. ‘Over time we watched the people forget that music once filled their streets. They do not even remember what a song is any longer. They have forgotten, too, that forests filled with birds once surrounded the city.’ She sighed. ‘Now the city is called Soulless. Few remember its real name. Without music, a city loses its soul and people’s hearts begin to die. That is what has happened to the King.’
‘And that is why Mellow is so ill,’ Oriole said.
Lady Butterfly touched the dagger in Oriole’s hand. ‘Look for the truth in the st
ones, Oriole.’
Late that night, as pale clouds drifted across the sky, Oriole and Boy squeezed into the hideaway in Burnt Water Alley. A rat scurried by. When it saw the two children it squeaked with fright and ran away.
‘The creatures of the city are all so frightened,’ said Oriole.
‘Rats are disgusting things,’ Boy said, wrinkling his nose.
‘Not to me. How I miss the soft hooting of night birds and seeing the sky fill with stars.’
‘I would like to go to your Forest of Birds one day, Oriole.’
‘And so you shall. I will take you there when . . . when I have saved Mellow.’
‘And saved the City of Soulless,’ Boy added.
Oriole picked up the jade dagger. She held it to the candle flame and stared into the emerald, moving it at different angles.
‘See anything?’ Boy asked.
‘Only my own reflection.’
‘Try the ruby.’
Oriole put the ruby up to one eye and stared deep into the heart of it.
‘Anything?’
She shook her head.
‘You are tired,’ Boy said. He took the dagger from Oriole’s hand and she let him, then he laid it beside him on the ground and placed a tattered blanket over them both.
As Mellow lay dying, he remembered the day when he fled the Palace, taking with him as many birds as he could. They flew through days and nights. And they had to fly high, for below them the forests burned. Smoke filled the air, blotting out the sun. Many birds fell from exhaustion. They were too small and their tiny hearts were not strong enough. When Mellow found the forest where the Prince was hiding, the soldiers had arrived too. The sound of wood crackling and the roar of flames was terrifying.
Mellow could sense the Prince. He had the familiar smell of the Palace still on him. He was by a stream and a girl sat beside him holding a baby wrapped in a feather blanket. They did not speak but looked lovingly down at the infant.
‘Mellow,’ cried the Prince, when he saw the Wishbird. ‘You have come. This is my beloved Nightingale.’ He placed an arm around the girl.
The Wishbird Page 6