Journey to Water's Heart

by Lea Ben Shlomo

  Beyond the wall they heard a noise. Tanti and Dionun hurried to hide the braided rope and the rest of their stuff. Tanti lay in his bed, and Dionun sat, leaning on the separating wall, trying to listen.

  After some time, they heard a door open and close, the click of the lock, and heavy footsteps walking down the stairs. And then, silence again.

  Dionun rushed to leap on the wall. He peeked over the other side and jumped down to the floor again.

  “Quick,” he said. “We don’t have much time left before the guards come with dinner.”

  He helped Tanti climb the wall and then jumped after him.

  Anaman sat on the bed, his face pale, his agonized eyes staring at the locked door.

  Dionun signaled to Tanti, who approached Anaman and laid him gently on his back. He rested one hand on his chest, and the other hand on his forehead.

  Slowly, Anaman’s breathing eased until it was in sync with Tanti’s. Anaman grasped Tanti’s hand gratefully and turned his head toward Dionun.

  “Listen to me, my friend,” he said. “I wrote a letter to King Dark Blue. I told him everything I know about the impending war. About Galrock’s initiated acts of hostility. He must do something to stop this. Terrible things are happening, Dionun. Tanti, there mustn’t be a war. Swear to me, both of you, that you’ll bring the letter to the king.”

  He pulled out a folded letter from beneath his shirt. “This letter must reach the Blue Palace quickly.”

  “It’ll get there,” Dionun said.

  “I know, Dionun, that the king persecutes you. Maybe Tanti will bring it to the castle.”

  “Let me take care of the details,” Dionun said. “And now, we must take your leave. Take care of yourself and pray that we succeed.”

  They shook hands and left.

  Several minutes later, Tanti and Dionun were back in their room. For the last time, Tanti lay in the white bed, listening to the guards climb up the stairs.

  Chapter 16

  White Sisters

  Halior paced the second-floor balcony of the palace. She was short of stature and slender, her movements decisive and energetic. Her face was symmetrically drawn, her hair gathered tightly against her neck in a web of tiny pearls.

  Through the entrance to the stairs leading to the garden, she could see the White Tower, rising high, its edge pointed, its windows dark and gloomy.

  The place terrified her. It brought to mind a repressed memory, from when she was a young girl, wandering down the corridor with her sister Laorin, until they came across an old wood door that they hadn’t noticed before.

  They heard the sound of faint shuffling behind the door. A sweet smell crept through the dark keyhole.

  “Halohalamana.” They heard a creeping, enticing whisper. “Open the door and I’ll show you the way to the white light.” They recoiled when a dark face appeared, a face that scared them to death. A man stood there, bearded, his white hair long and tangled. His sightless eyes gleamed white and shot straight into their hearts. “Halohalamon! Open, for it is time,” the deep voice said, and it seemed to slither right into their stomachs, drawing them to him powerfully.

  Suddenly, it seemed as though he was walking through the closed door, half-transparent, coming closer to them. They ran away in panic, his voice chasing them. “Stop, you little animals. I’ll get you yet, daughters of the Red. Pathetic worms.”

  His voice haunted them even when they had escaped to their room, hugging each other and weeping. They didn’t tell their parents a thing. Mostly because they didn’t want to cause sorrow to their mother, who was a Red from the eastern mountains, her mere presence arousing anger and unrest in the White Castle.

  They never went to the tower again, or to the wood door in the palace’s basement. The two princesses tried to keep gossip from their mother and behave like White girls. They obeyed the rules and upheld the strict customs and traditions. They almost forgot their visit to the White Tower, until it seemed like nothing but a distant childhood nightmare.

  The death of their mother, and shortly after, their father, left behind an unbearable pain. Laorin became queen. Her many obligations as queen distracted her from her sorrow. She fulfilled her role with passion, devotion, and seriousness, in an admirable way. Sometimes, the Red blood flowing in her veins made her restless and aroused a yearning for other colors—for unexpected movement, sound, and actions.

  Halior, who was younger and was a typical White, found herself standing guard, alert to any sign of mutiny, and trying to guide her sister back to the straight and narrow.

  Nowadays, there was a lot of traffic in the White Tower, where spies and conspirers were imprisoned. Galrock and his soldiers managed matters of defense and the armament of the army, as well as jurisdictions and punishments. They were fortunate to have someone like him, so responsible and experienced, who could keep them strong, guide them, and relieve them of the heavy burden of commanding an army.

  The tense situation demanded much attention. Laorin, who until now had managed to control herself, had been restless and distracted in the last few days. She frequently contradicted her decisions and spent many hours outside of the castle, wandering and riding that strange and completely common horse taken from the Hue-man spy. She paid less attention to her attire and manners.

  The heels of Halior’s shoes clacked rhythmically on the gleaming marble floor. What has happened to her discretion? she wondered. She’s inciting gossip, after we finally managed to silence it. As if to confirm her thoughts, her sister, the queen, appeared, bursting outside as she pushed the wings of the door and ran down the steps.

  “Laorin!” She called after her.

  The queen stopped in place, turned around, and smiled. “Good morning, sister. Please don’t wait for me. I won’t be joining you for breakfast. I’ll be at the stables all through the next hour.”

  “Laorin,” Halior said sternly. “Stable matters can wait until after breakfast. Don’t disrupt matters.”

  “I’ll eat something when I come back.”

  “You know that your presence at the table is required…”

  “Please take my place and apologize to the advisors and kitchen staff for me,” she said and continued running down the stairs.

  “Queen Laorin,” Halior said, horrified.

  Laorin screeched to a halt. She straightened, smoothed her curly hair, and straightened her dress. “Indeed, I was in a bit of a hurry,” she said. She turned again to the steps, stepping down slowly, majestically. The minute her feet touched the path at the foot of the stairs, she burst into a sprint and disappeared.

  Halior stamped her foot furiously and turned to the dining room. The queen had run to the stables like a peasant girl from the Red Mountains, neglecting her duties. She’d go again for a ride on that ugly, whinnying horse, her hair flying, her cheeks flushed. How long could she cover for her, before the rumors started spreading?

  “Not long now. Soon, everything will be over.” She heard a whisper that sent a shiver through her body. She looked around but didn’t see anyone or anything. The humming continued echoing and flowing around her, hoarse, deep, and ancient. Before her eyes appeared a wrinkled face, with eyes the color of milk, and just as suddenly, it vanished.

  One of the doors to her right was open. A shadow swept by and was swallowed by the walls of the corridor leading to the basements. Halior was hesitating as to whether to step through the entrance, which emitted a sweet smell of rot, when the door slammed closed, making her jump in surprise and fear.

  At the entrance to the dining room, Nikon, the head minister, waited for her with a smile. She walked more quickly. Should she tell him? He always knew just the right thing to say, the wise word. Would he believe her? She wasn’t even sure she had heard the voice. Things that she found odd and unfamiliar threatened her peace of mind.

  Halior, the queen’s sister, gathered he
r wits. She took a deep breath and held her head up high, ready to fulfill her royal duties as she pushed the horrible images out of her head and ignored the bitter cold freezing her back.

  Chapter 17

  Fugitives

  Tanti fell breathlessly on the ivory weeds, sprawled on his back, lifting his face to the sky. Dionun sat next to him and chuckled.

  “Soon,” he said. “Soon we’ll reach freedom.”

  “Freedom is here.” Tanti spread his arms wide. The skies were covered with clouds, and a cool wind blew on his face. He couldn’t believe that only several hours ago he had been a prisoner in the tower, sentenced to death for some unknown wrongdoing. His heart rejoiced. The gloomy skies above the mountain range were a sight for sore eyes. On the mountainside, a thin stream flowed, pouring into a shallow pool below. The world seemed peaceful and full of light, and he almost forgot that they were close to the castle from which their pursuers would soon leave to chase them.

  A thin drizzle started falling. Tanti didn’t move. His palms were bleeding. They were sore and painful from sliding down the ropes he himself had braided. Now the rain washed his wounds, cooled and calmed his burning face, as well as his body, which dripped sweat from running, climbing, and crawling after the agile and evasive Dionun. Had he not seen it with his own two eyes, he wouldn’t have believed a man could climb smooth, straight walls, leap like a frog into the distance, and with one hand, tie a knot that would hold the combined weight of the two of them, and then, untie it as he pulled it quickly to the other side, and slide up and down almost as fast.

  Only one thing weighed heavily upon him. All his begging was in vain. Dionun was adamantly against wasting time and searching for Tanti’s horse at the stables. Tanti swore that one whistle would bring Gayalo to him, and that no rope or gate or lock would stop him. That was the reason Dionun refused Tanti’s request, for fear that the grooms and guards would follow the horse. Apart from that, the horse would make it difficult for them to pass through the mountains to their hiding place.

  The pale sun started separating the clouds from each other. The rain stopped. Dionun grasped Tanti’s shoulders to help him to his feet, when they heard the approaching sound of galloping hoof beats.

  Tanti leaped up and hurried after Dionun to the shelter of boulders up the mountains, surrounded by brambles.

  The galloping sounded closer. From their hiding place, Tanti and Dionun followed the rider, who stopped by the shallow pool.

  Dionun’s large, coarse hand muffled Tanti’s cry of surprise when he saw the rider slide down the white, long-necked horse with the brown mark on its forehead. On its back was an elaborate saddle, decorated white and gold, an embroidered pillow padding it.

  Queen Laorin glanced from side to side. When she was sure she was alone, she untied the ribbons securing her cape, and let it drop to the ground. She led the horse to the pool. Then she sent another cautious glance behind her, bent down, and removed her shoes. She walked forward a couple of steps and dipped her feet into the water. From their hiding place, Tanti and Dionun noticed the delight on her face.

  While the horse drank, she stroked his neck. Gayalo raised his head and buried it beneath her armpit, staining her white dress, which was still moist from the rain. It didn’t look as though that bothered the queen. She laughed and kissed his neck. Gayalo shoved into her, almost knocking her over.

  “Your horse is in love, Tanti.”

  “I’d be too… If I were in his place,” Tanti whispered to himself, then flushed scarlet.

  “You can do that whistle now,” Dionun said. “An honorable queen without a horse and without her shoes can’t get any help. And then we’ll escape.”

  “You’re not opposed to us taking the horse with us?”

  Dionun nodded. “If circumstances brought him all the way to us, I won’t make it any more difficult for you. We’ll have to change our escape plans, though.”

  Tanti squeezed his hand happily, crawled backward, and started silently climbing down toward the spring, coming close to the queen and Gayalo, who were clinging to each other. With every step he took, he knew he wouldn’t be able to separate them. He also knew that despite Dionun’s consent, the horse would be a burden to them as they escaped.

  The queen sat on a rock, her back to him, splashing her feet in the water. He waited for a minute, standing there. Then he made up his mind. In just a second, he’d go to Gayalo, pet him, and say goodbye forever.

  Queen Laorin got up and went to where the water burbled gently. She washed her face and drank from her cupped hands. Primroses grew next to the wet rock. She picked a little bouquet and put it in her belt, enjoying a moment of sweet freedom. Then she turned her face to the sun, the smell of moist earth exhilarating her spirits. She had so few moments like these in her life as a queen. A bush of fruit sent its branches toward her. She picked a handful of the white fruit and ate eagerly. They tasted much sweeter than those served to her on a platter of gold. She remembered she hadn’t eaten a thing since morning and picked another handful of fruit, ate a few, and went to Gayalo to share.

  She had to return shortly to the palace, she thought, as Gayalo ate from her hand. Soon her people would be wondering where she’d disappeared to and why she wasn’t present in the morning meeting and wasn’t fulfilling her duties, as the queen ruling the largest, strongest country in all of the northern region.

  Then she heard the sound of galloping coming closer. Laorin turned urgently, quickly slipped her shoes onto her wet feet, and wore her cape after shaking the dust from it. A group of horsemen came from beyond the bend. They were extremely upset and tense as they dismounted their horses and bowed before her.

  “Your Majesty, the prisoners have escaped,” said their leader. “We’re chasing them. Obviously, they haven’t gone far.”

  “Who escaped? How did they manage?” Laorin asked, wearing the sternest expression she could summon. It was hard to act majestically when she had flowers in her belt, a mud stain on her dress, and her hands were sticky from the juice of the fruit the horse had just finished licking.

  “The Blue spy escaped, and with him, the Hue-man from Izmeran,” they said. “Using ropes they made out of sheets.”

  “When did this happen?” she asked.

  “Several hours ago. They can’t be far from the castle.”

  “Well then, follow them. Hurry up and capture them.”

  “Your Majesty, we fear for your safety.”

  “Two of your people will escort me back to the palace,” she said. “I must meet Galrock immediately and discuss the matter with him.”

  The guards galloped away, and the two men chosen to accompany her back to the palace stood, waiting for her orders. She instructed them to remain where they were and went to Gayalo. She wished just one more selfish moment for herself, before returning to her demanding duties.

  Why didn’t the prisoners’ escape shock her? Her heart was singing with unexplainable joy. She dropped the flowers inconspicuously to the ground, and gave the sparkling pool and the white ferns bowing their heads and trembling under the gushing water one last lingering glance. Then she noticed something else sparkle.

  On the horse’s harness, a small speck sparkled preciously. How hadn’t she noticed it before? When had this magical jewel been placed on the horse’s neck?

  An elegant drop of crystal, crafted by an artist, glittered under the light of the pale sun. Where had she last seen a topaz similar to this one? Could this be the same jewel hanging around the neck of the stranger she had seen in the grove?

  The escaped prisoner was here. Perhaps he was even close by, lying in wait for her.

  What was stopping her from alerting the guards?

  Something in her heart told her he wasn’t an enemy. She saw his eyes, as deep as the sea, his warm smile. This was the man who had responded to her desire for colors and gave her the tassels on his c
olorful belt.

  She futilely tried to shake away the thoughts in her head. She was the queen, and enemies of the kingdom were her enemies too. Torn between her conflicting emotions, the queen straightened her back and arranged her expression into a blank one, as she’d been taught as a child. She led Gayalo to the path, two guards riding behind her to escort her.

  Silently, she returned to the palace, lowering her head to hide the smile she couldn’t remove from her face, no matter how hard she tried. In her fist, she held the transparent crystal drop, containing all the colors of the world.

  Chapter 18

  Ovalina’s Kite-Egg Soup

  “Quickly, we have to go down and cross the path,” Dionun said. “As long as the path is clear.”

  Tanti didn’t respond.

  “Get up, Tanti, we’re going.” Dionun pulled his arm. “We have to reach the mountains ahead of us.”

  Tanti got up slowly and followed him, his expression thoughtful. Dionun rushed to cross the path, making sure to step on the fresh trail left by the riders.

  “What are you doing?” Tanti said. “This isn’t the time to play hopscotch!”

  “I’m covering our tracks, you fool.” Dionun returned to the side of the path, heaved Tanti on his back, and took him to the other side, where he dumped him on the ground. After several moments, when he assumed Tanti had gotten his breath back, he roused him to his feet.

  They climbed the mountain for a long time. When they reached the top, they started descending. The path below them was paved and wide. Tanti had hoped to walk down a more comfortable road. His injured arm ached from grasping the rocks. His body was bruised and scratched, and his legs trembled with exhaustion. Dionun led them to another mountain range, higher and steeper than the first. Tanti didn’t dare complain. He knew they had to cross the border in order to escape danger. He yearned to stop, breathe, and rest his stumbling feet, but Dionun hadn’t shown even the slightest sign of exhaustion.

  Tanti, who was used to walking in the mountains, had a hard time adjusting to the white limestone mountains, their rocks looming defiantly, as though saying, Try to cross us if you can, you pathetic soft-boned creature.