Journey to Water's Heart

by Lea Ben Shlomo

  “I think I understand what you mean, Your Majesty,” Balanter said. “Uniforms and weapons promise heroism and glory. This is how we’ll address the young people of our country.”

  “And what if many young people enlist? Thousands, for example?” General Shipur asked.

  “That would be excellent,” the king said, smiling fondly at Cyan.

  “I mean to ask how we’ll manage to sew all their uniforms. You can’t give some uniforms and not others. You know our young ones. There will be fighting; they may even leave.”

  “I thought about it,” Cyan said. “And this is my plan: After the meeting, return to the ball, to your awaiting wives and honorable guests. I will shut myself in my room and rally my seamstresses, and in a couple of hours, I’ll enter the ball in all my glory, wearing the planned uniform. As usual, I’ll make sure that Lady Papian’s servant, Azut, ‘stumbles across’ the pattern, and from there, things will happen naturally and to our satisfaction. The next day, there will be at least fifty uniforms ready. Only then will we announce the incoming war and ask the honorable ladies to donate to Queen Cyan’s latest wonderful idea. Because if they can sew an entire uniform within a day, they’ll be able to continue contributing to the war effort. Maybe we’ll give a rank and title to our most prolific seamstresses. Tippy and I will organize the sewing and seamstresses. Forgive me, honorable sirs, I must retire now.”

  Everyone rose when the queen left, then she stopped and turned back before walking out the door. “Remember, the success of the operation depends on all of you. Not a word until tomorrow.”

  The meeting continued for another hour. Suggestions were raised and written down by Balanter’s secretary. Azium distributed roles. Makaf Shakul was in charge of organizing the recruitment of soldiers and gathering them in order to prepare and train. Azium set a meeting for the next morning. He warned the ministers not to drink too much wine and liqueurs. Only those who promised to restrain themselves were allowed to return to the ball.

  King Dark Blue repeatedly warned them to hold their tongue. He threatened heavy penalties for those who mentioned the content of the meeting.

  Once the sign was given, the hall emptied quickly. The only ones who remained were the king, Balanter, Azium, and his three chosen generals. They approached the door, still talking, and at the entrance, they came to a stop, discussing their next steps.

  Only then did Balanter notice Tanti Marin, who remained by himself in the guests’ section.

  He signaled him to approach them.

  “We haven’t heard your voice this evening,” the king said. “Do you have anything to say, Tanti Marin, after what you’ve heard here?”

  “Your Majesty, I don’t know much about such matters. I’m not a military man, or an expert in finance or blacksmithing.”

  “Yet, judging by the way you arrived here, it seems as though you’re brave and resourceful,” said the king. “Don’t you have any advice or suggestions for us?”

  “What would the people in your country do had they found themselves in a similar situation?” Balanter asked.

  Tanti recalled the gathering in the council cave. “In my country, at times of trouble, we recruit people. I mean, volunteers.”

  “What can farmers or coopers do? How can they contribute to the war effort?” asked General Shipur.

  “Every person helps how he can, I guess,” Tanti said. “Even the horses.”

  “What about the horses? They recruit them too?” Afrur snickered.

  “You mean the cavalry, Tanti,” Balanter said. “We don’t have that here, even though we have more than enough horses in our country. We don’t have anyone to train them or the cavalrymen for battle.”

  “Perhaps we can do something about that? Order several trained herds from Clover Valley?” the king asked. “I guess the Whites have more advantages in that field.”

  “The Whites have more advantages in every field,” Azium said, instantly regretting his words when he saw the king’s expression darken.

  “Trained horses are expensive, Your Majesty,” Eiviar said.

  “Oh, stop depressing us with money matters!” the king said. “Let’s go. They’re waiting for us at the ball.”

  They turned to leave.

  The double doors opened before them and they left the hall. Balanter paused.

  “I’m sorry I can’t help,” Tanti said. “I’m just a passerby.”

  “You’re a very welcome passerby in our country,” Balanter said. “You may stay and lodge at the palace whenever you want.”

  “Thank you. I wanted to ask your permission to be on my way.”

  “Of course. Afleck will equip you with whatever you need. However, I suggest that you consider waiting at the palace a bit more. Perhaps you shouldn’t risk yourself on the roads during these uneasy times.”

  “I prefer to leave tomorrow morning, if you don’t mind, sir.”

  “I won’t delay you. I’ll be busy during the next several days. But if you need something, don’t hesitate to approach me.”

  “You’re very kind, Minister.”

  “Call me Balanter.”

  “Balanter,” Tanti said. “I don’t need a thing except a horse, which I’d like to buy or rent. I understand that now you’ll need every horse you can find. I promise to bring it back.”

  “You may visit the stables tomorrow and choose a horse. I’m not sure you’ll find a worthy horse. I’m sorry. Apart from the king’s and his ministers’ horses, which were trained in the Clover prairies, the only horses we have are poorly trained.”

  “I guess I can manage. If the horse isn’t old or lame or blind.”

  “Controlling an untrained horse isn’t easy,” Balanter said.

  “I know. My father taught my brothers and me how to train horses when we were still children. Each of us trained his own horse.”

  “I assumed so,” Balanter said and smiled. “I want to ask you not to leave tomorrow. Stay, Tanti Marin. Help us train the horses for the cavalry.”

  “I… I…” Tanti felt his throat close with distress. How could he agree to such a delay, yet how could he refuse? “I’m not an expert. I have a certain knowledge, but no more than that.”

  “What you know is probably much more than what our so-called experts know,” Balanter said. He paced restlessly, thinking, and then stopped again before Tanti.

  “I know my request makes things difficult for you, Tanti. I wouldn’t hold you back if we weren’t desperate. We’re grasping at every sliver of hope in order to survive. I’ll give you assistants, who will learn from you and will be able to replace you when you leave. I promise that I’ll enable you to fulfill your quest.”

  “My quest?”

  Balanter looked at him piercingly. Tanti lowered his eyes. Both of them were silent for a while. Tanti regretted the things he’d said. If he hadn’t jumped up and talked about horses, he could’ve been on his way tomorrow. And what did Balanter know about his quest?

  Tanti didn’t dare ask and didn’t want to be exposed to questions that he couldn’t answer.

  “Horse training can take a long time. I’m afraid I can’t be delayed.” Tanti fell silent. Balanter’s eyes gleamed impatiently.

  “Help us, and in exchange, take the strongest, fastest horse, if you wish,” Balanter said. “I’ll send escorts with you, who will help you find your way in the unfamiliar terrain, and save the time destined for the horses. And believe me, Tanti, I always keep my word.”

  Tanti wanted to run away, to return to his room and think, but Balanter wanted an immediate answer, and he knew he wouldn’t refuse. He nodded.

  Balanter’s face lit up, and his grin shone when he slapped Tanti’s shoulder.

  “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint us,” he said and slapped Tanti’s shoulder again. “Now, come and join us at the ball. We have to put Queen Cyan’s plan
into action. We’ll dance and rejoice as though there never was and never will be a war. The Blues, Tanti, know how to celebrate.”

  Beyond the door, Afleck appeared. He bowed deeply and accompanied them.

  Chapter 30

  King of the Swamp

  The little boat floated, making its way among the nuphar leaves, quickly evading the reeds, cutting through layers of seaweed. Heavy mist stood over the water, and swarms of mosquitoes whirled in it. Babu rowed, well acquainted with the way. His muscles moved effortlessly, and his single eye, half-open, was enough to lead his sire-king to the distant bank.

  Mabul Otonto, king of the Swamp, sat straight, wrapped in a white robe, a gift he had received from the Anurian delegation the year before. His protruding eyes flickered restlessly, examining the area surrounding him. Despite the silent movement of the boat, the few Swamp Dwellers they met on the way noticed it. Those who could disappeared as quickly as possible. Others froze in terror, trying to merge with their surroundings in order not to draw Mabul’s attention. The Swamp Dwellers, with their flimsy attire, their gray-green skin the color of the water and surrounding vegetation, could camouflage their presence successfully, except from their leader’s experienced eyes. It seemed that there was no limit to his visual range and that he saw everything. The main danger was from his fist or staff, which he used randomly, without warning or reason. His aim was cruel and brutal. Sometimes even lethal. Mabul believed that by terrorizing his people, he maintained his power and authority.

  They approached a cluster of huge Londer trees, which served as the dwellings of the Bonook families. In the early morning hours, its inhabitants were awake, rustling around their homes, heating water for cooking in huge pots placed on the tangled roots that protruded from the water. The “courtyards” were built on those exposed roots, and that’s where the Swamp Dwellers lived most of their lives.

  Life was hard in the Swamp world, which spread from Anura’s eastern border to the Prairies of Silence. The Bonook lived in wood huts. The foundations of the huts were on the water or among the ancient Londer trees. They lived in isolation from their neighboring countries, getting about on tiny, muddy barges. They made their living from the fruit and leaves of the Londer tree, and from hunting fish and amphibians with nets, spears, and thin, sharp harpoons. The Swamp Dwellers were stooped, quick, and slippery. Their light attire exposed their hairless bodies. The men’s heads were bald, while the women had tight curls the color of smoke. Many of them had deformed faces and limbs, as a result of the inbreeding common among the Bonook. Babies born with severe defects were taken from their mothers by Mabul Otonto, their leader. “These are children of the gods,” Mabul declared. “And their mothers should be proud of their offerings.” Those unfortunate babes were brought to the tree on the edge of the prairies, to be offered as a sacrifice to the gods of the prairies, the Hayatulaum.

  Thanks to those miserable babies, who, had they survived, would have been sentenced to a life of suffering and been a burden on the Bonook community, the Swamp Dwellers became close to the Hayatulaum. The Hayatulaum were monsters. A blow from their tail was crushing and fatal and their poisonous bite led to an agonizing death. The appeased gods allowed the Swamp Dwellers to dig and collect the sweet prairie flourista, and even approach the Yenook, the innocent pups of the Hayatulaum. The Bonook learned how to reach to them through sounds and signs, and even learned how to ride and steer them. The Hayatulaum were creatures with thick legs and tails full of sharp scales, their tips poisoned. Their necks were long, and their heads, similar to a lizard’s head, were full of lumps and warts, among which their sly eyes and a horn protruded from their foreheads.

  The young Swamp Dwellers who dared approach the Hayatulaum herds and train the Yenook gained respect and admiration from their countrymen.

  Two boats floated closer to Mabul’s boat. One of the people pointed toward a tree with a thick trunk called “the women’s tree.” Several days ago, Shunek’s wife had given birth to a baby with a large protruding forehead and tiny, twisted limbs. It didn’t look as though it would live long, even if left with its mother. Mabul needed a new victim. He and his people surrounded the tree.

  The people who lived close by hurried to escape the king, with his white robe and his staff, the tip of which’s harpoon had disabled many people. Even though they knew where the king was going, no one dared protest or lament. Arisan, sister of the woman who had given birth and Shunek’s niece, stood there, pressing close to one of the tangled roots, her eyes burning as she begged for the poor baby’s life.

  A beauty like her, it was such a shame. She’d recently come of age and already she was engaged to Shunek. Soon, she’d join her two sisters, who had been forced to marry their uncle in exchange for a generous payment. Their father had built a nice and spacious shelter from the dowry, and now he’d be able to replace his rickety old boat with a new one and still have some money left. Shunek was willing to pay Arisan’s father a large sum for her.

  Perhaps he’d take Arisan for himself, Mabul thought, and save her from her uncle’s abuse. The family ties would certainly result in Arisan bearing deformed babies, just like her sister. On second thought, perhaps he should just leave things as they were and wait for the next baby.

  Mabul came closer, reaching out to stroke her smooth shoulder. He coveted her quivering lips, her perfect figure. She avoided him quickly and disappeared among the Londer’s thick branches, which leaned toward the water.

  Two of his people entered the house and emerged with a wrapped bundle in their arms. The babe’s screaming mother tried to latch on to them, but they shook her off and laughed at her, then slapped her face so hard that she flew back. Arisan came out of her hiding place, hugged her sister, and cried with her. The rest of the women sat silently, their heads low.

  They put the bundle into Mabul’s boat, who sat silently and didn’t wave his harpoon this time, despite the women’s unrest. The boats continued. The screams of the stolen baby’s mother and the cries of the women followed them.

  As he passed by the cluster of trees, several other boats joined them. In them sat the Yenook drivers, excited and ready for a day of riding and training.

  Lately, the Yenook farm had grown. The Swamp Dwellers were smart enough to distance the pups from their parents. Mabul Otonto had a plan that was taking shape. Today, they would begin fencing the training area to protect the trainers from the adult Hayatulaum. The adult gods would be appeased by their favorite offering, whose irritating crying grew weaker behind his back.

  He remembered Arisan, who dared reveal herself, express her sorrow, and protest. And he, uncharacteristically, hadn’t hurt or punished her. Her amatite eyes followed him. Her movements, the curve of her neck, were like that of a princess. No, he wouldn’t let Shunek lay his rough hands on her. He’d take her. He was the king, and he wanted her.

  The boat slid among the huge fern leaves, passing by the sturdy swamp pines, through the thin mist resting on the water. In the convoy of boats, people whispered among themselves, not daring to break their king’s thoughtful silence.

  His great plan was to seize control of the western drylands in White Anura. During the raids that occurred once every several years, the Swamp Dwellers were pushed back, and sometimes their habitat was reduced. Under his reign, their situation had improved, yet the Bonook were still rejected, isolated, and living in crowded colonies, unable to acquire solid land, which would make their lives easier and allow them to approach farming, sheep and cattle, or what they specialized in—robbing and looting the fringe settlements and travelers passing by the border.

  The border was closed now, yet Mabul’s negotiations with the White captain of the guard had led them to a treaty. The Bonook would help the Whites in their war against their Blue enemies, and in exchange, they’d gain those desired territories. Following talks with the leaders of the settlements along Knee Lake, in exchange for the cessation of lo
oting, they now had trade ties with those settlements. They could improve their nutrition, buy tools, and even sell their own products. Mabul Otonto wanted more than that. In light of the defects and diseases among the Swamp Dwellers, he knew they had to improve their race, and quickly. He insisted on expanding his borders so they’d include the villages and the two border cities. His dream would come true when he’d annexed the White inhabitants and married their daughters to his people. The Bonook would then have healthy, handsome babies. During his meetings with Galrock, he hid from him his coveting of more than the villages and border settlements offered to him. First, he’d get the fertile lands, and then, when on dry land, it would be easier for him to expand his borders and conquer other areas.

  Ever since he’d heard the rumor that the mage was still alive in Anura, he knew he had to reach him somehow. The mage was the scion of the powerful dynasty of healers from a community of mages that had been destroyed and annihilated in the Great War of Generations. He’d force the old man to reveal the place of the Kagular Masharin, which was the mushroom of life. If the mage was still alive, the mushroom existed.

  This fire in his bones was what pushed him forward. He was the king of fools, rejected and crowded between kingdoms. When he found the mushroom, he’d eat handfuls of it and stay eternally young. He’d rule the world, riding the Hayatulaum, who were also enslaved to his desires.

  He didn’t share his secrets with anyone. Only Seniro, who was the most daring and smartest among his people, and whom he’d sent to spy in the White Castle, knew of his plans. He was the one who had informed him of the old mage. Now, he sat in the third boat behind him, loved and admired by the younger people, joining the chosen riders who would train the young Yenook.

  At noon, they stopped the boats and sat to eat in the shade of one of the trees. The king and his people climbed out of their boat to stretch their legs and sat on the roots of the Londer. They ate dried fish, lit fires in bowls, and roasted the tough nuts of the tree, which cracked loudly. The fruit was crunchy, floury, and bittersweet. The king poured his people blue, thick, sweet wine, to cheer them up and encourage them before the difficult task before them.