“Or the tea…” Martam Og laughed. “Of course, after that, we moved our location in the market. We didn’t hang the venison meat for display. Marom showed us how to store the meat, which was cut into small chunks, in small chests that kept the meat cold and fresh. And Milo, who was then just a tiny little thing, played next to us, and was beloved by all of us.
“When their family started having problems, you know, she started coming to the market alone. We found out that her husband had been sent away from their home and the village because of drunkenness. I started helping her with the little things. And she helped me with things that women know about. Later, I bought a wagon to bring her things to the market. When I saw how upset she was that I hunted animals, I stopped bringing meat and started with the deliveries. I found out that I liked moving from place to place and constantly meeting new people, and I’m doing it still.
“The merry market days came to an end when a fence was erected at the border. The Whites were forbidden to cross the border and enter Nautilin. No one knew why they cut us off from each other. In the beginning, people would come to the fence and talk to their friends on both sides of the border. They’d transfer goods in various ways, while hiding from the guards. The Blues didn’t want to go without the cheese, and the Whites didn’t want to go without the wine. Because people were forced to shout back and forth, the hill was called Hey Hill.
“Closing the borders caused a lot of distress. People who earned their main livelihood on market day suffered terribly. Entire villages in Anura became poor within a day, when they could no longer sell their cheese. Friends had to say goodbye. Milo had two friends, a brother and sister, Whites. As beautiful as angels. Those three used to run around the market all the time. It was so sad when the soldiers came and blocked the passage to the gate. The Whites disappeared, never to be seen again. The shouts were silenced, and those who tried to cross the border were arrested and jailed. The market slowly faded away, until it stopped altogether.
“That year, Milo lost his two good friends, his father, and Dionun. You, Tanti, brought them so much joy when you told them Dionun had escaped the White prison.”
Martam Og fell silent. Tanti didn’t know what to say. Martam Og’s story echoed in his ears.
“We should reach the city by nightfall,” Martam Og said. “If there are no unnecessary delays. I understand that you have to enter the palace. Since we won’t be able to receive permission to enter after nightfall, we may have to stay at one of the inns.”
“We’d better hurry then. We may still make it.”
“We won’t even if we arrive by noon. The line will be long.”
“What line?”
“What did you think? That you’d arrive at the palace, and they’d open the gates right away, and the guard of honor would escort you to Balanter, or whoever it is you want to see?”
“The king.” The words were out before he could stop them.
Martam Og looked at him doubtfully. He reached back and pulled the potbellied bottle of wine out of the wagon and offered it to Tanti.
“Maybe we shouldn’t drink before lunch?” Tanti said cautiously.
“You’re right, my friend,” said Martam Og. “It’s still too early to drink.”
He took a long drink, corked the bottle, and put it back in place. The road became somewhat flat, wider, and more comfortable. Martam Og urged the mares to go faster. After less than half an hour, he took another drink from the bottle. Tanti felt his stomach clench. The wagon went faster. Although he was pleased that they were progressing more rapidly, concern was creeping in. Martam Og started to sing in his deep voice. Tanti grasped the rail of the galloping wagon with all his might.
“Why are you sighing over there?” Martam Og said while the wagon jumped as though possessed.
“I’m thinking about Dionnie,” Tanti said. “How she blessed us before we left. ‘Trust our Martam,’ she said. ‘He’ll bring you to the king’s city in one piece.’”
All at once, the wagon stopped. Tanti almost flew onto the mare’s back.
“Dionnie, you say? Dionnie from Bird Village. My dear friend. I promised her something and didn’t keep my promise. What will she say when she finds out I drank myself drunk. Oh dear, I’m such an ugly monster.” He threw down the bottle of wine and started weeping bitterly. Tanti hoped the drinking would end now.
Martam Og continued weeping and cursing himself for drinking. He was in agony as he thought of Dionnie’s hurt face when she found out about his misdeeds. Tanti tried to console him, believing that the journey’s hardships had come to an end. A remorseful Martam Og would mend his ways.
When evening came, Martam Og became gloomy and withdrawn. Absentmindedly, he pulled the bottle of wine from beneath his seat and started drinking.
The purple sky darkened and its color deepened, until darkness surrounded them. Tanti begged, scolded, and threatened, but to no avail. Martam Og continued drinking until he drained the bottle.
The wagon was now rocking wildly out of control. Tanti feared for his life. He took his bag and jumped off the wagon.
“Wait, don’t go.” Martam Og climbed down as well and walked beside him. “I won’t drink anymore, I swear. Just another sip, and it’ll be the last I take for the rest of my life.”
Just then, they heard a terrible creak. One of the mares stumbled and pulled the other one after her. The wagon turned on its side, barely missing Martam Og, who stumbled and rolled into a ditch, where he remained lying, alternately laughing and sobbing, inviting Tanti to join him at the forest celebration. After several minutes, he fell asleep.
Tanti was in trouble.
What would he do all alone, on the road, during this miserable night? The wagon, with all its equipment, was lying on its side, and one of the mares was whinnying with pain because the crooked shaft was pressing on her neck. Down in the ditch, Martam Og was lying down with all of his towering height, snoring loudly. No matter how hard Tanti shook him, shouted, or begged, Martam Og slept the sleep of a drunk, occasionally whining and mumbling in his sleep.
Tanti hurried to untie the mares. He wanted to pet them and calm them, but the moment they were free, the mares burst into a gallop and disappeared.
He hurried back to the ditch and shook Martam Og with all his might. “Wake up! The mares ran away!”
Martam Og shook off his hand as though shooing a bothersome fly and didn’t open his eyes. Tanti smelled the stench of drink from his mouth. Tanti climbed up to the road and looked around. He couldn’t see the horses. He wanted to continue. In any case, he wasn’t sleepy. But he couldn’t leave Martam Og alone in a ditch on the side of the road.
“Damn you, forest man.” He grumbled and crawled into the upended wagon, where he found a blanket and spread it on the ground. He lay on his back and stared at the stars in the sky. He made up his mind to continue alone the next day.
Part Two
The Blue King
Chapter 23
Morning in the Blue Palace
That morning, the Blue king woke up earlier than usual. He loved the early hours, when he could go out to his balcony while still wearing his blue nightshirt, and from there climb down the ornamented wood steps leading to the blooming garden, which sparkled beneath the dewdrops. While he drank from the cup of tea in his hand, he’d ponder in the silence, before the palace woke up to a busy day, and before he began the hopeless race to complete his royal obligations.
After getting dressed, he went to the royal dining room. At the entrance, his wife, Cyan, greeted him. When he saw her, his round face lit up. He kissed her forehead. “I see you’re also up early today,” he said.
“Such a beautiful day,” said Queen Cyan. “It’s a shame to miss even a second of it.” She stepped back and twirled in place gracefully. “Do you like the new dress I stitched last night?” she asked.
The king thought that Queen Cyan was always b
eautiful, no matter what she wore. Although he didn’t hide his admiration, she still found it important to hear his opinion about her clothes, for Queen Cyan designed her clothes herself, thus surprising him and the people of the castle with her daring designs.
Her mind flowed with ideas, which quickly passed on to the other ladies of the court. The clothes she wore were an odd combination of mismatched textiles and ornaments, yet under the queen’s magical touch, they blended. Therefore, the dress that she’d wear to a court dinner or assembly, or to watch a performance of musicians or dancers, became en vogue the next day. Noble women sewed and wore exactly the same thing, after the quick castle maids brought them the model and patterns that Cyan threw into the garbage.
That was why every celebration looked like an odd costume ball. The noble women wore laced cubes or bells, or glittery vests with necklines shaped like vine leaves, regardless of their body size, the shape of their face, or their hair. Of course, added to that were the accessories, feathers, hats, and hair ornaments.
The next day, Cyan wore a different dress, which immediately became exclusively stylish. As a result of these variations, the palace’s seamstresses were extremely busy and in demand.
“Your dress is lovely,” the king said. “The cherry ornament in the right pocket looks charming, sweet, and tasty.” Seeing the expression of satisfaction on his pretty wife’s face, he tried to extend a professional opinion.
“The vest is simply brilliant. Both tailored and loose. I’d say it’s magnificent, but then I wouldn’t have a word left to describe you, my Cyan.” He smiled fondly and held her hand, leading her to the huge table, laden with food. “Allow me a word about your hairdo,” he said and flushed slightly. “I preferred yesterday’s hairstyle, or tomorrow’s, if you ask me.”
Cyan laughed and slapped his arm playfully. “My sweet Dark Blue. Of course you’re allowed to say that my hair looks dreadful. I haven’t brushed it yet! I’ve been trying to find my hairbrush for the last hour. I came to see if you’ve seen it, or Tiponet, who maybe remembers where I put it last night.” She turned away to search for Tiponet, her personal lady-in-waiting, and her dearest and most beloved friend.
“Hurry, darling. If the ladies of the court see your hair this morning, tomorrow they’ll all appear with hair as wild as forest sprites!” Dark Blue called after her. “Besides, I’m hungry.”
Just then, Tiponet arrived at a run. “Good morning, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice like the twitter of a chickadee. “Where’s Queen Cyan?”
“Went looking for you,” the king said. “That is, her hairbrush.”
“I have the hairbrush.” Tiponet chirped. “The problem is I can’t find the queen.”
From one of the rooms, they heard Cyan call. “Tiponet, where are you?”
The king turned to the dining table, sat down, and sighed. “Until the queen finds her hairbrush, and Tiponet finds the queen, I’ll sit here, before these warm pies just begging someone to eat them, and wait. Balanter, stop immediately. I’m telling you, stop laughing!”
Balanter laughed and laughed. The servers, the head cook and his assistant, who stood at the door connecting the dining room to the kitchen, and of course, the kitchen workers, all started laughing without knowing why they were laughing. And the fruit girl laughed so hard that the laden tray she was holding fell and the fruit rolled off. She crawled under the table and chairs, still laughing with the boys, who ran around her to collect the fruit.
That’s how it was. When Balanter laughed, the entire castle joined in his infectious laughter. When Balanter was angry—seething and shooting sparks every which way—the ministers, the helpers, and the servants all trembled like leaves in the wind.
Balanter was the king’s personal assistant, his advisor, and the chief minister. Although he was young, he was an expert in many fields, and he knew how to find solutions to the complex problems that were raised daily in the Blue Palace.
Fortunately, the queen wasn’t as meticulous in matters of hair as she was concerning matters of fashion. She returned quickly, tidy and fresh. The cook gestured, and breakfast was finally served.
They sat there for a while, eating unhurriedly and chatting, wishing to enjoy another moment of peace before they entered their studies and started dealing with the piles of paperwork waiting for them. Tiponet burst into the room, saying in her chirpy, high voice, “Your Majesty, an important announcement!”
The king, who was busy eating his favorite dish, cheese patties, swallowed two of them, and was so surprised that he almost choked. Tiponet didn’t notice a thing, and continued. “The commanding officer, his second-in-command, and the senior warden would like to announce that they’ve caught a cheese smuggler.”
King Dark Blue was known as an easygoing, nice man, and he was especially fond of Tiponet. But hearing her squeak so early in the morning, while unable to swallow his patties yet also unable to extract them, tested the limits of his patience.
Balanter, as usual, rushed to the rescue. He went to Tiponet to draw her away. “Perhaps you should wait until the meal is over—” he started to say, but then she raised her eyes, which looked like shining lakes, and he became somewhat confused and fell silent.
The king finally managed to swallow the patties and said, “I don’t understand the urgency! If a poor cheese smuggler was caught, why do the commanding officer, his second-in-command, and the senior warden have to bother themselves and me?”
He took a drink of chilled apple water and slammed the glass down on the table, so that the remaining juice splashed all over. Tiponet didn’t look impressed and continued. “A cheese smuggler, they say, who was caught by the Whites and sentenced to death. He escaped and was caught by the Blue guard, just by the border, while carrying a load of cheese.”
“One moment, Tiponet,” said the king, hurrying to swallow another patty. “When did you have the time, I mean, when did you find out about the event?”
“Now. Several minutes ago. The problem is that the prison cells are filled to capacity.”
“Tiponet, will you speak more clearly?” Whether or not it was important, the story was starting to sound interesting. “What about the cheese? What did they do with it?”
“The cheese? I don’t know.” Tiponet looked uncomfortable for a moment. “As I said, the prison cells are full. That’s why they decided to put him, in the meantime, in the women’s cell.”
“The women’s cell?” Queen Cyan said. “They’ve gone mad.”
“They thought it was empty.”
“Oh, well, that makes sense.”
“Unfortunately, there were three forgotten prisoners there. Those women who were pardoned by the queen after stealing the eggs of the orange chickens from the royal henhouse, and not the chickens themselves.”
“How could they steal chickens if they were in prison?” the king asked.
“Yes, I remember that request,” Cyan said, without bothering to answer his question. “I approved it on my birthday, one year ago. How is it possible that they’re still there?”
“Someone forgot to set them free, as I said.” Tiponet continued. “And the embittered prisoners attacked the new prisoner, taking all their rage out on him. The door was securely locked, of course, and he had no choice but to climb on the walls.”
“Tippy,” the queen said. “Are you sure you aren’t making this story up?”
“I’m not! The commanding officer asked me to pass on the information, since he’s not allowed to disturb the king during his breakfast. He asked that I tell you that the prisoner is on the ceiling, and he refuses to come down until he receives permission to talk with the king. He has something extremely important to tell you, something that has to do with state security.”
“Bring him in immediately,” the king said.
“The prisoner?”
“The commanding officer, Tippy,” said Balant
er.
“Don’t bring anyone in!” Queen Cyan said while slapping the king’s back after he almost choked again. “Let that cheese smuggler sit on the ceiling to his heart’s content and wait until the king finishes his meal.”
Balanter decided to take matters in hand. “Allow me, Your Majesty, to leave the table and take care of this matter.”
“Of course.” The king finally wheezed, as the patty flew out of his throat. Cyan flinched slightly. They were lucky to have such a successful and efficient advisor.
Chapter 24
Hungover
Explosions and the sound of thunder woke Tanti from a deep slumber. He stood up and looked around apprehensively. Dozens of insects fell off his body. He recoiled and screamed. Various insects had clung to him at night, crawled under his clothes, on his bitten face and arms, and in his hair. He started shaking them off, as well as the leaves that stuck to him, leaping, running in circles, and cursing. He didn’t know where he was, or into what hell he’d rolled or when. Once again, he heard terrible noises coming from the ditch on the side of the road.
Tanti approached cautiously and saw Martam Og, hunched over, kneeling oddly, emitting roars. By now, Tanti was completely awake. Martam Og’s face was green. His eyes were red and swollen, his beard was filthy, and his hair was standing on end every which way. His body convulsed as he vomited, gripping his head and crying in pain.
When he saw the wagon lying on its side, its contents scattered and smashed, Tanti remembered what had happened the night before. He hurried to the wagon, searched, and found a jug of water. He took a rag, wet it, and hurried back to Martam Og. When there was a momentary pause in the roaring, he came closer and put the rag on Martam Og’s forehead, wiped his face, which was filthy with vomit, and then wet the rag again.
“Thank you, my fri—” Martam Og started to say, and then another roar escaped him and vomit burst out of his mouth. Tanti recoiled. The smell was just as bad as the sight. Nevertheless, he felt sorry for the groaning giant. He pressed the wet rag to Martam Og’s tortured forehead, cooling his face and neck, and cleaning his mouth and beard.
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