Journey to Water's Heart

by Lea Ben Shlomo

  “I’m telling you, darling,” King Dark Blue said. “After this pile, I never want to see another letter as long as I live, plus another two years.” He finished arrowing a detailed letter of refusal and stopped writing. “Perhaps we should take a little break and just sit and chat a bit.”

  Cyan raised her head, her eyes somewhat glazed. “Of course. Just what I wanted to suggest myself. In fact, I wanted to tell you something.” She blushed slightly, paled, and then blushed again. “Finally, it’s just the two of us, here, alone. I think this is the right time to tell you—”

  The door burst open, cutting her off. A young man, wearing colorful clothes, barged in, panting and agitated.

  “Your Royal Majesties,” the young man said hastily, glancing briefly behind him. “Good thing I found you. I’ve brought a letter.” He took a rolled letter out of his breast pocket and held it out to the king.

  “Do you think we don’t have enough letters to read?” asked the king. “And who let you in here?”

  “The letter is most urgent and important.”

  “The letter is snailed.” The queen got up and took the letter from the king’s hand. “We’ll have to wait for Balanter to read it. We’re done for today. In the meantime, please leave.”

  “And shut the door,” said the king.

  Tanti stared at the pile of letters on the table and feared that his letter would disappear among them.

  “Please, my queen,” he said. “The letter really is important.”

  Cyan softened. She raised the hand holding the letter. “I promise you, the minute Balanter arrives, we’ll treat this letter with due respect.” She studied Tanti’s clothes. Maroon pants and a gold, wide-sleeved tunic, she noted to herself. Over it, a deep blue velvet vest and a belt of tassels. On his head, the stranger wore a hat embroidered with silk strings. She handed the letter to the king and turned to Tanti. “Now, you really must leave,” she said.

  “I think I can read this myself if I make a bit of an effort,” said the king. Something about the strange man’s desperate expression touched him.

  “Thank you, that’s all I ask,” Tanti said, trying to overcome the weakness that seized him.

  “But first, tell me who you are and about the letter you brought,” the king said.

  “Your Majesty, my name is Tanti Marin, son of Tarkian, from Izmeran,” Tanti said, his head spinning.

  “I think the boy is about to collapse,” Cyan said. “Perhaps he should sit down?”

  They heard noises, footsteps approaching, and the jangle of swords bumping into stairs. Balanter came through the open doors and the king exhaled in relief.

  “We took the prisoner off the ceiling, Your Highness,” Balanter said. “He keeps insisting that he has something urgent to discuss with you.”

  “He won’t be the first one today,” said the king.

  “Who is this man?” Balanter asked when his gaze came across Tanti.

  “He brought a snailed letter. What did you say your name was?”

  “Tanti Marin from Izmeran.”

  “You’re not White,” Balanter said.

  “I’m from Izmeran,” Tanti said. “The letter was written by a man named Anaman. I met him at—”

  “One moment.” Balanter shushed him. “How on earth did you manage to get in here?”

  Before Tanti could answer, the king said, “What is that noise from outside?”

  “The prisoner is making a ruckus. I thought you might want to hear him out,” Balanter said.

  “At once, at once. Didn’t you want to tell me something, Cyan dear?”

  “Maybe later,” said the queen. “Let’s hear what the cheese smuggler has to say.”

  “Let him in,” said the king. “I’m afraid that today, things, to put it mildly, aren’t going as usual.”

  The guards entered with the prisoner between them, his hands and legs chained.

  “Is it necessary to chain him?” Cyan asked.

  “This prisoner is extremely slippery,” the commanding officer said. “The moment we let him loose, he’ll escape.”

  “He asked to see me. Why would he escape if I’m here, prepared to listen to him?” the king asked. “I must say that I’m quite curious. I might even witness the wonder of him climbing walls and ceilings. Release him from his chains.”

  “Your Majesty, please,” the commanding officer said. “The prisoner is dangerous.”

  “Do as you were ordered,” Balanter said.

  Before the guard had time to approach the prisoner, there was a shout in the room. “Dionun!” Tanti recognized his friend.

  “Tanti! Abaya…”

  “Do you know each other?” Cyan asked.

  The rejoicing prisoner leaped toward the odd foreigner while easily slipping out of his shackles before the astounded gazes of the king, the queen, and their people. The two men embraced and danced around the room.

  “Dear Tanti. Hello! Did you bring the letter?”

  “Of course I brought it,” said Tanti and pointed at the letter, which the king still held. “I gave it to the king.”

  “Very good, my friend. Actually, how did you get in?”

  “Well, you know, I climbed the wall. Like you taught me.”

  “Wait a minute, my colorful sir,” said the queen. “You’re one of those wall climbers?”

  “With your permission, Your Majesty.” Tanti bowed politely. “Only when I’m being chased.”

  “Can someone explain to me what’s going on here?” Balanter asked, his gaze moving from Tanti to Dionun to the empty shackles lying on the floor. “Who are you and what does the prisoner have to do with the letter?”

  “Please, let’s all have a seat,” the king said. “And you.” He addressed the prison guards. “Return to your posts. And take the chains with you. And when you have time, you’d better check what they’re made of.”

  “Your Majesty, allow me…” The poor commander holding the key to the useless shackles was filled with concern and worry for his king, who stood defenseless next to the dangerous prisoner.

  Right then, a large image appeared in the entrance.

  “Tanti! There you are!” said a large, disheveled man, whose eyes gleamed out of a bearded face.

  Cyan screamed in fright and ran to hide behind the king.

  Tanti instantly broke into a run, but he had nowhere to run to apart from the open window.

  “Martam Og.” Dionun jumped aside before the giant trampled him.

  “Dionun!” Martam Og said. “You’re free. That’s wonderful. We were worried about you. I have to go to him.” He pointed at Tanti, who had climbed the window and was standing on the windowsill.

  “I had to set the mares free!” Tanti yelled. “After the wagon upturned and you rolled drunk into the ditch.”

  “Damn the mares, I told you,” Martam Og said. “No! Don’t jump out the window!”

  The gate guards burst into the room. “There he is!” They instantly surrounded Martam Og. “Come with us at once!”

  Before they drew their swords, Martam Og shook them off as though they were pieces of straw. “Tanti.” He kneeled. “Get down from the window. Please, listen to me first.”

  “No! You listen to me first,” said Balanter, who was quickly approaching one of his infamous rages. “You are in the king’s room, and you don’t know your place.”

  “The king? The queen?” Martam Og looked as though he were waking from a dream. He started weeping. “Forgive me. I’m just trying to talk to him.” He pointed at Tanti. “You may cut off my traitorous head and gouge out my eyes. I deserve the worst punishment. Chop off my miserable beard, if that’s what you want. But first, let me ask for forgiveness from this dear man, whom I’ve been chasing for a long time. Tanti, can you ever forgive me?”

  Dionun went to the window and pulled
Tanti inside.

  “I thought you were angry because of the mares,” Tanti said.

  Martam Og was still on his knees. “If I’m mad at someone, it’s at myself, Tanti my friend. The mares were grazing peacefully in a nearby field.”

  “Well then, friends we are, and friends we’ll stay, so don’t worry,” Tanti said.

  “I am worrying.” Martam Og tore at his hair. “What will Dionnie say when she finds out what I ate and how much I drank? Off with my head.” He sobbed loudly. “Chop off my ears.”

  “Without doubt, we’ll do that soon,” the king said. “But not before lunch, of course. What do you think, Balanter? What should we do with these three?”

  “Right now, I have no idea what is going on here,” Balanter said. “We have a cheese smuggler who wants to deliver an urgent message, the son of Tarkian from Izmeran who brought a snailed letter, and an oversized forest man who wants to be separated from his head as soon as possible. Add to that the commanding officer, who insists on standing before us and blocking the entire show. People are chasing each other, and they all know each other, aside from us. With your permission, Your Majesty, I’ll take our guests to the conference room and find out everything, from start to finish.” He turned to Dionun. “You and your friends have many questions to answer.”

  “With pleasure, sir. We’ll answer your questions and more.” Dionun bowed deeply. “As our honorable king ordered, not before lunch.” The queen laughed and the king smiled reluctantly.

  “‘The king shall not eat and starve his subjects,’ as is written in the kings’ book of rules. Even if we agree to the forest man’s request and decide to chop off his beard, we won’t do it on an empty stomach.”

  Balanter nodded and smiled as well. He instructed the guards to lead the three intruders to the kitchen. The guards were happy to fulfill their positions and accompany them. They hoped to enjoy the lavish, generous meal that they had grown accustomed to.

  The round room emptied. A pile of unread letters remained on the table, trembling slightly in the breeze coming through the window.

  Chapter 26

  Delivering the Letter

  Balanter sat in the large council room, his head in his hands. He had skipped lunch and hadn’t touched the plates sent to him. He’d just finished reading the letter and urgently sent for Military Commander Azium Nasusion, and other high-ranking officers.

  Before they entered, Tanti, Dionun, and Martam Og were brought to the adjacent room and asked to wait until they were summoned. Balanter nodded at them before closing the door on them. Martam Og stopped the door and pushed it wide open.

  “Excuse me, sir, Chief Minister,” he said.

  “Speak,” Balanter said.

  “Sir, my wagon is full and harnessed to two mares in the courtyard before the palace. They’re standing in the sun, without water or food. Allow me to go to them and take care of them. I must deliver the merchandise to people waiting for it. Then I’ll return to receive my due punishment.”

  “I ordered you to wait in order to understand your part and interest in the letter,” Balanter said.

  “I know nothing about the letter. I was asked to bring the bearer of the letter, Tanti, to the palace. To my shame, I failed to do what was asked of me. I drank too much, and he left.”

  “And you, how quickly are you prepared to leave this place and not come back?”

  “You mean, leave? Without punishment, without hanging, or chopping off my beard?”

  “Without. Maybe, on second thought, we can chop something off. We can’t let you get away with nothing.”

  “It’s possible! I’m leaving right now.”

  “That’s a smart decision.”

  “Allow me, Minister Balanter, to note one thing.”

  “What now?”

  “The swords.”

  “What about them?”

  “Look.” Martam Og approached the door, opened it, and pulled in the guard. “Draw your sword,” he said.

  The soldier, frightened by his size and thunderous voice, didn’t hesitate to obey the man ordering him about. He tried to draw his sword with trembling hands. It took him a while to extract it from its sheath.

  “Hit me with the sword,” Martam Og said and stretched his hand forward.

  “No way!”

  “Hit, I said! And put some force behind it.”

  The frightened man hit him.

  “Harder.”

  He hit him again. The sword bounced up. Martam Og’s arm showed no mark. He pulled the sword from the guard’s hand, gripped the blade with three of his fingers, and pressed. The sword broke in two.

  “As you see, Chief Minister,” Martam Og said. “These swords can’t kill a fly. They can’t even cut a salad. Not to mention protect the king and his people.”

  Balanter took the broken pieces of the sword and bent them. “Yes, I see that,” he said, as he continued to study the broken pieces. He turned to the guard. “Return to your position,” he said to the guard.

  The man left, examining his broken sword and glancing fearfully at the huge stranger.

  Balanter turned to Martam Og. “What do you know about swords?”

  “I descend from a line of blacksmiths, and I couldn’t help but notice that the swords are too long and flexible. The soldiers fumble and can barely draw them from their scabbards.”

  Balanter looked thoughtful.

  “I can…” Martam Og said tentatively.

  “Yes?”

  “I can make one good sword, as a sample. Shorter, sharper, and more efficient.”

  “How fast can you make it?”

  “Within several hours from the minute I have the tools and materials.”

  “When will that happen?”

  “When I finish all the deliveries on my wagon, I’ll travel to the blacksmiths’ farm at the foot of the iron quarries. I’ll rent a workshop for the night and start working.”

  “I need you back here with a sword by tomorrow.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Forest Man,” Balanter said. “I didn’t think I’d hear the word ‘impossible’ from you.”

  “I can try.” Martam Og shifted his weight from foot to foot.

  “Try what?”

  “I can be back by tomorrow with the sword.”

  “Very good!” Balanter said and slapped him as close to his shoulder as he could reach. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Go now. I’ll leave instructions at the gate. They won’t delay you any longer.” He took a handful of coins out of his pocket and gave them to Martam Og. “Take the money for expenses and don’t skimp on materials.”

  Martam Og smiled. One gold coin was worth much more than the goods on his wagon. The money Balanter gave him was enough for one hundred swords, and he’d still have some coins left if he planned wisely. He put the money in his pocket. He’d leave the wagon where it was and entrust it to the people waiting at the gate in exchange for its contents. He’d take one of the mares and gallop to the blacksmiths’ mine. Balanter would receive his sword tomorrow, and maybe he’d even add to his payment.

  The future looked promising. An excited Martam Og went to take his leave from Tanti and Dionun and left the palace hastily.

  Just then, the sleepy military commander and high-ranking commanders arrived, grumbling about the urgent summoning that had interrupted their respective activities. Right after them, the king himself entered.

  “Balanter, why are you so grim?”

  “I read the letter,” the chief minister said and shook his head. He gave the letter to the king.

  The king started reading. The writing was snailed and not always clear. It seemed as though whoever wrote it was in great distress. Apart from Balanter, the king was the only one in Nautilin who knew how to read snailed writing. Balanter was the only one who read fluently
and knew how to snail as well—that is, to write the White writing.

  The commanders looked at the king as he read the letter and noticed its impact on him. His round, smiling face became somber and his brow furrowed.

  After he finished reading the letter, he sat quietly for some time. The military men waited.

  “Impossible,” he finally said. “I’d like to think that whoever wrote that letter is a madman, yet I know he isn’t. Impossible,” he said again. He lifted his head, and his eyes met Balanter’s. “Read the letter out loud,” he said and returned the letter to Balanter. “Skip the beginning with all those tiresome honorary titles. Begin at the crux of the matter.”

  “I am White and I love my country with all of my heart,” Balanter read. “My letter isn’t one of a traitor, neither am I vindictive, although I’m injured and in pain, and writing and sending this letter puts the messenger’s life n danger. I swear that the only purpose of this letter is to prevent a disaster for two countries and those dwelling in the area.

  “For a year or more, there have been in Anura preparations for a war against Nautilin. Galrock has managed to convince Queen Laorin that the Blues are hostile and have willingly segregated themselves. That they’re gearing up and preparing themselves for war. Dark forces are taking control of the spirit and actions of the country. Borders have closed in order to supposedly protect the Whites from Blue attacks. Contact between Whites and Blues is forbidden. Those who break the law are jailed in the White Tower (just ask the letter deliverer, and he’ll add details). Blues captured were sentenced to death in order to create an atmosphere of war, friendships of many years were severed, and we, the Anurians who tried to maintain human and economic ties, suffered for our attempts.

  “I’m writing wounded, my body aching, but my heart aches even more from how things are developing. Please, Your Majesty, don’t ignore my words. Write to Queen Laorin and convince her that you do not want a war. Do what you can to prevent this disaster. If you reach her heart, her logic, she’ll come to her senses, I’m sure.

  “I will try to endure. It is my strong desire to see my beloved family again, my friends and colleagues. I don’t know if this will happen. I hope my letter will reach its destination and correct, wise, and determined actions will be taken. Hope is the power that illuminates my dark days, while I’m unjustly imprisoned and beaten.