Journey to Water's Heart

by Lea Ben Shlomo

  He clenched his fists tightly. For some time, he stood before the old wood door and didn’t dare tap out the agreed-upon signal. He could still turn back. He could conquer his urges, which enslaved him to the malicious darkness. He feared this place yet couldn’t find the courage to escape. His hand rose slowly. A tap. A short pause. Two more. A long pause. Then another one.

  The door was before him, half-transparent. It seemed as though he was passing through it, as through a dense cloud. The sound of something slamming behind him startled him out of his hallucination.

  “Hashee hashee ya mohalanohah.” He heard a hoarse voice, whispering deeply from the abyss.

  “Come in, Son of Night.”

  He walked slowly and stretched his hand before him, straining his eyes to see something in the darkness, afraid to miss the entrance of the Twister, the tunnel that spiraled down. His hand encountered a rope tied to the conveyer belt mechanism. He came closer and prepared himself for the steep descent in the padded seat.

  In the past, monks, disciples of the mages, and apprentices of the healers would throw themselves down, or were thrown down, rushing down the wet slide, with no traction to check their fall. Then they would seclude themselves in a dead-end nook and abstain, purifying themselves and preparing their spirits for profound spiritual elevation, which would enable them to understand the secrets of healing and magic, not knowing when the rope would be lowered, bringing them back to the world of the living. Some monks went mad, unable to endure the horror of solitude, not knowing if or when salvation would come. They, of course, couldn’t fulfill their positions and were left there. Who were the few who were fortunate enough to leave? Galrock didn’t know the answer.

  He feared the pit, even though the descent was measured, and the rope, with which movement was controlled from both sides, was reliable and strong. Yet more than that he feared its occupant, to whom he was making his way now.

  A stench both repulsive and alluring rose from the bottom of the pit. The smell of rot and death surrounded him, accompanied by an inflaming, irresistible sweetness. Soft whispers and their echoes collided with each other and crept toward him.

  “Hamanaloo oo oo. Esh kulham aluben.” Galrock closed his eyes as he slid down.

  Carved cave walls closed in on the space he was descending to and turned the place into a room with curved walls, filled with shelves crammed with parchments, old books, jars, and bottles so old that their glass was opaque and worn. A narrow bed stood in the room, and a lamp stood on a long wood table. The candle in it cast long shadows all around.

  Galrock untied himself from the ropes and approached the light.

  The man sitting in an armchair was old, with a white beard. He was very tall, thin, and gaunt. His arms and legs were long and skinny. It was hard to believe a man could survive with such pale, thin skin wrapping his bones. His eyes, glittering like two fiery embers, were full of power, cunning, and zeal.

  “Cease with your concern, Galrock, son of Garruf,” said the long-faced man, his voice hollow. “Even if the rope tears, there’s a way out. There’s always a way out.”

  One couldn’t hide anything from the piercing eyes of the mage White Lune, he knew that.

  “If only those frightened apprentices of the priests thrown down the pit had known,” the mage said. “If only they’d searched for a way, they could’ve escaped the spiral pit whenever they wanted.” He shoved his distorted face closer and bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. “But some disciples willing to go through this process were absorbed in their fasts and didn’t search for a way out. Others were so terrified that they couldn’t see and couldn’t do anything to save themselves. You never know just how much you hold your fate in your own hands, for the unknown is greater than what is known. Ach, you’re a fool. You’ll never understand it.”

  How Galrock feared this man. How he needed him.

  “Sit,” the mage said. “I want to hear about the situation and what you did. But first, tell me about the army’s status.”

  “We’ve increased recruitment and continue training.” Galrock sat on the hard chair. “We’re recruiting commanders and training them. A shipment of five excellent horses arrived from Admin. We had to send our own people there, so they’d learn how to take care of horses and how to train them, since the Admin horsemen wouldn’t stay in Anura.”

  “They can refuse or demand exorbitant prices to train horses as long as Admin isn’t under our reign. When the war in the east is over, remember that Admin is our next destination after conquering the Blues.”

  “Of course.”

  “The Swamp Dwellers?”

  “We’ve contacted their king, Mabul Otonto. They’re prepared to train the Hayatulaum.”

  “Good. And what’s the situation in Nautilin?”

  Galrock chuckled. “The Blues, as usual, are eating, drinking, and happy. They’re still preparing for the end-of-summer competitions.”

  “Don’t discount the weak or the crooked,” White Lune said, and his long face looked even longer. “And never overestimate your strength. Always be on guard. Remember the prisoners who escaped.”

  He could hide nothing from the mage, who’d been locked in his dark cell for dozens of years, while a mysterious potion gave him eternal life. Galrock was willing to work with him in exchange for the promise to rule a world ruled by mages, while he, the captain of the guard, would gain insurmountable power, as well as a long life. Would his body also become horribly twisted and elongated like that of his venerable master?

  He didn’t want to ponder too much, afraid of the old mage’s piercing eyes. Soon he’d leave this place, the tiny vial of powder in his hand, and rush to shut himself in his room. He’d heat water on a special burner he held there, and measure one tiny teaspoon. First, he’d inhale the liquid and wait. The body had to get used to the mysterious substance, to open up to it. After that, he’d dip the tip of his finger into the glass and smear the substance on his arm, and between his fingers and toes. Then he’d wait again. The trembling and acridness embracing him would signal that the substance was active. His heartbeat would indicate that his actions, up until that moment, were accurate. One drop more than necessary would cause an explosion in his chest. Like that time, when he became impatient. If he restrained himself this time, he’d be flooded by a feeling of softness, purification, and then fieriness, power, and supreme joy.

  “Where do you think they are now?”

  “Who?”

  “The prisoners. Did you do everything in order to capture them?”

  “The searches continue. Until now, we haven’t seen any signs indicating that they crossed the border.”

  “No signs should be your biggest fear,” White Lune said. “A crack in the border wall will grow deeper and wider.”

  “I don’t think they’ll succeed in crossing the border. The guards are reinforced and patrol day and night,” Galrock said. “They’re just a wounded Hue-man vagabond and a dazed, toothless Blue.”

  “Your Hue-man vagabond survived the furroids. And he managed to escape the White Tower in Anura while beaten and injured, under the patronage of that miserable, toothless Blue, who guided him through your country, evading his pursuers. It seems as though the Blue prisoner is familiar with every path and road, which may reinforce the possibility that he’s a skilled, trained Lizard. There’s nothing to prevent them from sitting in the Blue king’s room, drinking his wine, and telling him what their dazed eyes saw. You must be careful, Galrock. These little blunders will bring your downfall.”

  “I’m sorry,” Galrock said. He didn’t believe White Lune’s description corresponded with reality. Perhaps he was exaggerating in order to teach him a lesson. Yet he couldn’t deny the fact that they’d escaped and hadn’t been caught yet. He felt like a wayward child, and hated the feeling. “Tomorrow, I’ll send reinforcements.”

  “Leave that.” Whi
te Lune dismissed him. “It’s too late to pursue them. What about the Red queen? It looks as though she’s fine.”

  “The Red queen?” Galrock was confused. “The Red queen no longer lives, sire. We took care of her. I myself…”

  “Do you think I’ve gone mad? Is the Red one’s daughter not Red?”

  “She is acting according to plan and trusts me. She has also expanded my authority and supports my actions.”

  “For now, yes. She considers the Blues her enemies. For now.” The mage fell silent. He stood. “Here’s a bottle for you. And be careful.”

  Without another word, he turned away and disappeared into the darkness.

  Galrock put the vial in his pocket. He approached the lifting facility and began his upward journey.

  Chapter 28

  Runya Mail Birds

  Once again, Tanti and Dionun shared a room. This time they were amused and enjoyed the pleasures of the Blue Palace.

  The spacious room was full of hammocks, made of woven, ornamented reeds, which replaced beds, sofas, and chairs. The hammocks hung from ropes that descended from the ceiling, and rocked gently at the slightest movement of one’s body. They were padded with huge colorful pillows, which were soft and wonderfully comfortable. On the windowsills were plants with abundant, fragrant greenery and flowers.

  For a while, Tanti and Dionun rocked in their hammocks and tried out the basket-deep armchairs, which were surprisingly comfortable. They talked and exchanged information, trying to guess what the king and his people would do as a result of the information exposed by the letter. Tanti was disturbed. “Dionun,” he said. “You could’ve brought the letter yourself. You arrived just when I did.”

  Dionun smiled. “I wasn’t sure the king would see me. Besides, I had to take care of things at the White cheesemaker’s village.”

  “Did you visit Anaman’s family?”

  “Of course. The visit was more successful than I expected. I discovered wonderful people there, brave and willing to help. With the help of our friend Ovalina, who mediated the meeting, the mayor of the village agreed to our request to help Anaman’s family. People came to work on the farm, rebuild from the devastation, and help the family. They hid me from Mondale and other Blue haters.”

  “Blue haters?”

  “Yes, there are many like them in Anura, and they’re multiplying. There are societies and unions of young people wearing the badge of the kite bird on their chests, who are the pride and joy of their parents. Bad things are happening in Anura. Although, to tell you the truth, I was more afraid to enter the Blue Palace then to leave Anura. I thought they wouldn’t treat me or the letter seriously. Thanks to you being a foreigner, all fancy and flamboyant, and thanks to your fine manners, the letter was accepted.”

  “Dionun, you didn’t warn me about the difficulties involved in entering the palace. I could’ve still been stuck outside.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t give up, my sweet friend.” Dionun chuckled and increased the rocking of his hammock. “And in the end, the letter reached its destination, didn’t it?”

  “Yes. It did.” But Tanti still felt uncomfortable.

  The servant appointed to take care of the two men’s welfare entered and interrupted their conversation. He summoned Dionun to a meeting with Balanter. Tanti, still upset because of his unnecessary journey, couldn’t say a thing in the servant’s presence. While Dionun got ready to leave, Tanti turned onto his back and closed his eyes, rocking in the hammock and sinking into the soft pillows, the scent of mint and lemon balm accompanying his breathing. When he woke up, the room was dim, and the light of the sunset was reflected in the windows. He got up, sleep-dazed, barely able to open his eyes, searching for Dionun among the hammocks. Had he returned from his meeting with Balanter? Perhaps he hadn’t left yet? Tanti didn’t know how long he had slept, whether it had been only several minutes or an hour or more.

  He found the washbasin and groomed himself for a social meeting with the people of the Blue Palace. And then, in the mirror, he noticed Dionun’s head outside the open window.

  His head was still heavy from sleep. Perhaps he had slept more than several minutes.

  Tanti turned around. Dionun stood there cooing, his voice rising and falling. “Grooooo maroooo.” He approached the window and saw two black birds circling Dionun, slowly coming closer. Then they landed and perched on his shoulders. The birds cooed, and Dionun responded in kind. He continued cooing as he rose slowly, sat on the windowsill, and swung his legs into the rooms. Slowly, his movements measured, he closed the window. Tanti, who noticed his efforts, stood quietly, afraid to startle the two birds. Now he noticed their deep blue color and the magnificent bright blue stain on their chests. Their slightly hooked beaks and their thin necks, covered by a protective thin fuzz speckled with yellow, gave them a gloomy look.

  Dionun, who noticed Tanti standing in the middle of the room, signaled him with his eyes. Tanti continued standing stock still. Dionun took one bird in the palm of his hand and put it in a net he pulled from his pocket. Then he put in the second bird. He closed the edge of the net with a clasp attached to the corners of the bag, took two thin bamboo sticks out of his second pocket, and placed them in the four corners of the net, inside the small clasps. Tanti was amazed by the simplicity and efficiency of the birdcage built right before his eyes.

  Dionun placed the birdcage on one of the small service tables scattered around the room. He released the birds’ claws, tangled in the net, and put them on a leather sheet that he spread on the bottom of the birdcage. Then Tanti noticed a tiny roll of paper tied to one of the bird’s skinny legs. Dionun stroked the bird’s head and neck, whispered some soothing words, and carefully took the roll of paper and unfolded it. He smiled at Tanti in relief and sat down on one of the rocking benches.

  “What are those?” Tanti asked.

  “These are Runya mail birds. Through them, I send and receive letters,” Dionun said. “A war is about to break out, as you can guess, and it seems as though everyone will be busy soon.”

  “Can’t it be prevented?” Tanti asked. He approached the birdcage and stroked the back of one of the birds through the net. “I find it hard to believe that the White queen is really interested in war and death.”

  Something flashed before his eyes, a disturbing memory that disappeared just as fast as it appeared.

  “The White queen is working hard and confirming the actions of her captain of the guard,” Dionun said while pulling another tiny letter from the second bird. “It seems as though we don’t really know the cause for this hostility. If we want to prevent a war, we must send Blue spies and find the source. Someone is very interested in a war breaking out. In the meantime, as they say, be prepared for war if you want peace.” He perused the letter in his hand again, made a few signs on a piece of paper, and grinned. “Here, Tanti, this is something that may interest you.”

  “What is it?” Tanti was distracted. He was still preoccupied with that fleeting memory. The white grove. The queen. Something that had to do with a letter. Dionun’s words interrupted his thoughts. “Listen. Friends of Anaman managed to pass information to Nikon before Anaman was tried. He agreed to see the mayor of their village, who claimed that Anaman was ‘misled’ by the Blues and acted out of a misunderstanding. One of the honorable functionaries in the castle is a distant relative of Anaman’s wife. They managed to locate him, and he was willing to guarantee that Anaman wouldn’t act in any way against his country. And what do you think happened?” Dionun started jumping in place. “Somehow, the plea reached the queen and bypassed Galrock, and this is what the message says: ‘The queen agreed to pardon Anaman, and soon, he will be sent home.’ What do you say about that, Tanti?”

  “Anaman will be released? Wonderful. Queen Laorin pardoned him? Maybe she isn’t that cold.”

  “A flame of fire will melt even ice, Tanti my friend. Even if it
’s small; even if it’s tiny.”

  Tanti turned away from Dionun’s burning eyes. “This is good news,” he said uncomfortably. “I see you haven’t wasted time for nothing, Dionun.”

  “Many sleepless nights,” Dionun said. “And there’s still much more work waiting for me, Tanti. I intend to begin the moment I wake up from my nap.”

  As he talked, he dropped into a round swing, shaped like a basket of cherries, curling up among the huge pillows.

  “There are still more letters I must send,” he said to Tanti. “Ask them to keep an eye on the Runya mail birds and feed them. They like semolina cookies.”

  “Semolina cookies?”

  “They also eat vanilla cookies. And pomegranate nectar.” Dionun yawned loudly.

  “What about you, Dionun? Don’t you want to eat a cookie or two?” Dionun didn’t answer. He was sleeping deeply and loudly.

  Tanti went to the birdcage. “Vanilla cookies and pomegranate nectar,” he said. “What else do the honorable ladies request? Ginger pudding?”

  “Gerrooo, terrooo.” The two cooed softly as an answer, moving their heads from side to side, their movements sudden and sharp, as they studied him and blinked.

  “I wish I could also send a letter.” He whispered almost soundlessly. “I’d like to let my father and mother know that all is well with me. That I’m overcoming the hardships of the journey. I miss them so. My brothers too. How are they? I’m in a place where the colors are different, the sights are strange, and the smells are rich. Different things are important here. I’ve met a White queen, fair and elegant. She’s vulnerable and kind and vivacious one moment, and a moment later, she’s cold and dangerous.”