The Princess and the Captain

by Anne-Laure Bondoux

  Remembering the promise she had made to herself, Malva began climbing into the branches of the thousand-year-old tree. She scaled the trunk, clambered to the very uppermost branch, and sat astride it to see the world. If old Bulo had been telling the truth, the magic of the tree was about to start working.

  As soon as she was securely seated on the branch she felt a prickling in her eyes, and then a kind of burning sensation. She pulled a face, but she did not close her eyelids. She wanted to see …

  ‘Galnicia!’ she said, turning to look west.

  Eyes wide, she saw the familiar outline of the Citadel appear before her: its intimidating walls and towers on top of the cliff, like some great bird of prey, and lower down the silver waters of the River Gdavir winding its way along. It was such a shock that Malva had to clutch the branch to keep herself from falling off. Dizzy, nauseated, dazzled: she breathed slowly, but she did not close her eyes.

  Now she saw the gardens of the Citadel, its south facade, and the first houses of the Lower Town standing in its shadow. The trees in the orchards had lost their leaves, as if it were the middle of winter. No fountains played in the basins, and no one was walking along the terraces. The whole place looked grey, dull, lifeless. The bells of the Campanile were pealing out at the top of the Upper Town.

  Someone’s dead, thought Malva, shivering. She turned her head slightly and saw a funeral procession going down to one of the bridges. A small, shivering crowd was following a cart covered with a pall. A Holy Diafron drove this jolting vehicle, and behind him, surrounded by armed soldiers, walked …

  ‘The Coronador!’

  As if her cry had scared it away, the vision blurred, and Galnicia dissolved into a kind of cold fog.

  Malva felt a lump in her throat. If the Coronador was leading the mourners in this funeral procession, it must be someone dear to him under the pall … the Coronada?

  ‘Is … is my mother dead?’ cried Malva.

  A peaceful silence was all the reply she had to this question. She put a hand over her eyes, caught her breath, and turned feverishly in another direction.

  ‘I want to see Philomena!’ she said in a voice that shook slightly.

  The magic of the tree began again: the prickling, the brief burning sensation, then that strange feeling of being carried through space …

  A vast plain of short, windswept grass sprinkled with snow appeared before Malva’s eyes. She immediately recognised the Great Azizian Steppes where she had ridden so far in the company of the Baighurs. Her heart leaped again. When the vision became clearer, she saw a camp of oryak-skin tents with swirls of black smoke rising from its centre. Armed horsemen had gathered around a fire. They were rolling the handles of spears between their hands while the points glowed red in the embers. Malva recognised Uzmir in the middle of them. The Supreme Khansha’s handsome face looked thin and hard.

  Malva turned her head slightly. A young woman wrapped in a heavy oryak-skin cloak had just come out of one of the tents. For a few seconds Malva wasn’t sure that she recognised her, and yet … yes, it was Philomena! Well, if the tree doesn’t tell lies, she’s alive, thought Malva with intense relief.

  Philomena approached the circle of horsemen and took her place beside Uzmir. At that moment the men pulled their spears out of the fire and began to chant. Uzmir uttered a cry, and all his companions scattered. Only Philomena did not move. She stayed there looking at the flames with her head bent.

  She’s crying, thought Malva, biting her lip.

  The riders mounted their scrawny horses, and set off at a gallop in close formation, following the Khansha, who stood on the back of his mount. He was shaking his spear in one hand. Malva realised that the Baighurs were not off hunting. Philomena’s tears told her so. Uzmir and his men were at war.

  Malva closed her eyes. Her heart felt heavy. She didn’t need to see who the Baighurs were fighting; she knew. The Amoyeds and the forces of Temir-Gai must have formed an alliance after the fire that devastated the harem, and Uzmir’s people must now be fighting on all fronts.

  Malva moved a little on the branch. All these visions left a bitter taste in her mouth. The happiness she had just felt had melted away, and her heart was drowning in grief. She set her jaw, opened her eyes again, raised her head to the sun and said, ‘The Archont! I want to see where the Archont is now!’

  In a painful flash she saw a boat with slanting sails of woven bamboo, very different from any of the vessels she had seen before. Bleeding, lifeless bodies lay on deck. She started as she heard cries. The last scene of a pitiless drama was being acted out at the stern of the boat.

  The Archont, standing on a chest, tunic open to show his perspiring torso, was waving two swords at his opponents. He faced two exhausted and bleeding sailors who were supporting each other in a final effort. Hatred distorted the Archont’s face. He had a wound on his shaven skull, but he was not weakening. With a great bound, he leaped on one of the two sailors, and Malva almost closed her eyes when he thrust his blade into the unhappy man’s belly. The last survivor of the crew fell to the deck in his turn, and dropped his weapon. He was exhausted, but he managed to crawl behind the mast as the Archont retrieved the dagger of the man he had just killed. Horrified, Malva watched as the Archont slowly advanced, a dreadful grin on his lips. The sailor trembled and begged his executioner for mercy, but Malva knew that all pleas were useless. The Archont knew no pity.

  He caught the man by the hair and plunged the dagger into his throat. Then he strode quickly over to the bows of the boat and searched under a heap of sails. He brought out something that Malva instantly recognised: a Nokros still containing several Stones of Life. With a victorious gesture he held his trophy up to the sun. Thanks to this stolen Nokros, he could still hope to gain time, cheat Catabea’s deadline, and avoid the Immuration!

  On the verge of fainting, Malva burst into tears on her branch. The scenes she had just witnessed, helpless to intervene, sickened her. She sobbed for a long time up there in the tree, overcome by anger and distress. She saw Uzmir’s face before her, grave and emaciated; she saw Philomena, abandoned on the frozen steppes in front of the dying fire. And then came the images of Galnicia, grey and wintry, the Citadel, the orchards, the streets, all of them a part of the childhood that she had wanted to forget, but that was still fixed in her heart like an arrow-point. Clenching her fists, she pounded them on the branch until her hands were bleeding.

  A long time later she found the strength to move. She sat back against the trunk, took a deep breath, and looked at the landscape around her. The sweet valleys and meadows, the calm forests, the cool streams of water, even the splendour of the Bay of Dao-Boa now seemed unreal to her. So much beauty almost made her feel ill. She no longer understood what had made her want to come here. How could she have left the beach without a thought for her companions who were still on board the Fabula?

  She turned to the sea.

  ‘I want … I want to see Orpheus,’ she murmured at last.

  Her eyes widened, their pupils dilated, and the spell of Mount Ur-Tha began working again, showing her the mended sails of the Fabula.

  The wave had struck the ship with such force that the rails were broken in several places. But all the passengers were there on deck, alive: Orpheus, Lei, Babilas, Hob, Finopico, Peppe, even Zeph, who was padding round in circles yapping hoarsely. They looked distraught and dazed. When she looked at their faces closely, Malva saw that they were crying. Orpheus was looking at the waves, clinging to the sagging rail. The distress in his face utterly overwhelmed Malva. Peppe and Hob, their faces streaming with tears, called her name: Malva, Malva, Malva.

  ‘They think I’m dead!’ she cried out loud.

  The vision immediately disappeared, and Malva was alone in her tree again, unable to move.

  ‘They think I’m dead,’ she repeated.

  She felt like howling out loud, but she didn’t have the strength. She slid down to the foot of the tree, her legs trembling. Making contact w
ith the ground reassured her a little. She knelt on the moss and looked at the sky. It was such fine weather, the air was so sweet … how could she feel so sad when she had finally reached Elgolia?

  Feeling desperate, she retraced her steps to the bay where she had been washed up a few hours earlier. Her eyes no longer saw the rivers, her ears no longer heard the birds, her heart was caught in her breast like a frightened, frail little animal.

  Once she was back on the beach, she made unhesitatingly for the ochre stone temple. Although she had no idea what she would find there, her instinct told her to go in. She pushed at the heavy wooden door, which swung back on its hinges with a groan. It was dark and cool inside. Rays of light fell through the cracks in the roof made by the roots growing there. A few insects buzzed around her as she walked in.

  A stone slab covered with moss and cobwebs stood in the middle of the single room inside. Something was shining on top of the slab. Malva thought at first that a ray of light was lingering there, and looked up at the cracks in the dome, but no, it was not a sunbeam. She went closer, and then saw a long wand of pure crystal set in the stone. An intense, almost blinding light shone from its cut facets.

  Malva looked at the crystal for a long time, fascinated by its perfect shape and mysterious brilliance. The light seemed to come from inside it. There was something alive about it, a kind of pulsing like a heartbeat. She put out her hand and touched its smooth surface.

  No sooner had her fingers made contact with the crystal than she felt warmed through by its light. Everything confused seemed to her suddenly lucid, plain and clear. An intense sensation of well-being engulfed her; she felt she was herself, determined to live here for ever, to build her house here and make her dreams come true. The light acted on her like a revelation. Never mind Philomena and Uzmir! Never mind Galnicia, never mind the Coronada! Never mind Orpheus and his companions on the Fabula! She must live her life without them, far from them all. She must save herself by forgetting them.

  Malva looked at her fingers on the crystal, and suddenly realised what it was.

  ‘The Vuth-Nathor,’ she murmured.

  She had known the name since old Bulo spoke of it on the Estafador just before the shipwreck. He had described its brilliance, he had warned his listeners against its lure. The Vuth-Nathor had haunted his nights and accompanied him through all his days. Yes, she remembered it all! The old man had wanted to take the treasure away, and that had brought disaster on him: he had been expelled from Elgolia, condemned to pursue a dream forever beyond his reach for the rest of his days, a dream that was now just a memory.

  Suddenly she was afraid. She stepped back, her heart thudding, and moved away from the crystal.

  Then she turned and ran out of the temple, her mind racing. When she was back in the sunlight looking at the beach of white sand, the trees and the birds, she no longer knew what to do. For a brief moment the Vuth-Nathor had shown her, but it had not lasted long. She had only had to get away from the crystal for everything to become complicated, ambiguous and hopelessly confused again.

  She sat down on the sand, drew her knees up to her chin and tried to think. If I stay here, she said to herself, what will happen? I’ll build my house, perhaps I’ll be able to live in freedom … but will I be alone for ever?

  Once again she felt like crying. Everything she had dreamed of until now was worthless without the people she loved. She had been wrong! She had thought that happiness awaited her in Elgolia, but all she had found here was loneliness and regret.

  She sighed and rubbed her face. On the other hand, what would happen if she gave up Elgolia? Could she join Orpheus, Lei and the others again? And once she was on board the Fabula, wouldn’t they all be condemned to the Immuration?

  So what was the point of that?

  Malva stretched out her legs and lay down in the sand, face turned to the sun. It seemed an impossible choice. She would have liked help, she would have liked someone to decide for her, or then again she’d have liked the wave that had brought her here to come back and take her away, even if it drowned her! She’d have liked Orpheus to appear on the beach, bend down and take her in his arms the way he had this very morning on the deck of the Fabula …

  ‘Orpheus!’ she called desperately.

  There was no reply, and her voice died away. The silence whispered its terrible murmuring in her ears. She ached all over.

  After a while she got to her feet, dry-eyed. Swaying as she walked, she went back to the temple doorway. Not quite knowing how, she had come to her decision as she cried and lay on the sand. She entered the temple, went up to the Vuth-Nathor, put both hands on it and pulled with all her strength. The light went through her again, illuminating her mind, but she resisted its call.

  ‘Let me go back to my friends!’ she asked. ‘My place is on board the Fabula!’

  The Vuth-Nathor shone more brightly than ever. She felt a burning sensation on the palms of her hands, stinging worse and worse until she couldn’t bear it. The burning made her cry out and suddenly take her hands off the crystal.

  Nothing around her had changed. The temple was still there, damp and buzzing with insects.

  ‘Let me go back to them!’ she shouted again, for the benefit of the invisible Divinities. ‘I don’t want to be here in Elgolia!’

  The silence and the dim light made her heart sink. No divinity had lived here for a long time. There was no one to answer her request.

  Devastated, Malva left the temple. Had old Bulo lied to her? Was the power of the Vuth-Nathor irreversible? Was she condemned to stay here for ever in the Bay of Dao-Boa, which no longer meant anything to her?

  She went down to the sea. And suddenly, just as she was thinking of walking into the waves to end it all, she saw a sail approaching the island. A white sail, and the mainmast of a ship … it was the Fabula! Her heart leaped in her breast.

  ‘Here I am!’ she shouted, waving her arms. ‘Here I am! Come and pick me up, by Holy Harmony!’

  She turned round. A ray of crystalline light was shining on top of the temple like the lantern of a lighthouse in the middle of the sea. Its radiance was guiding the Fabula in!

  Malva jumped up and down and waved her arms until she could see the pale but beaming faces of Lei and the twins in the bows. They were laughing and crying at the same time, while Babilas and Orpheus handled the ship in the stern. She went into the water, first wading and then swimming, drawn to the Fabula as if by a magnet. At last Orpheus left the tiller and threw out the rope ladder so that she could climb back on board.

  When she clambered over the rail her companions gathered around her. Zeph barked, but no one could say a word. Orpheus simply opened his arms, and Malva fell into them, unashamed, with unutterable relief and happiness.

  ‘I’m back,’ she murmured. ‘Whatever happens I’ll stay with you for always.’

  Then the Fabula turned and moved away from the shores of the deceptive land of Elgolia, whose promises Malva had turned down.

  Another Stone of Life had crumbled inside the Nokros. The crew of the Fabula had only five days to find the way out of the Archipelago.

  39

  A Fishing Expedition

  Malva said nothing about what had happened to her. The next day the twins questioned her, begging her to tell them, but they got nowhere. The visions she had seen on Mount Ur-Tha haunted her memory. Every time she opened her eyes, she saw the beautiful shore of the Bay of Dao-Boa, and felt unspeakable pain. All she could do was shut herself in her cabin, pick up her pen and write down what she was feeling.

  I have abandoned my dream, she wrote. I fled from Elgolia. If Philomena knew, what would she think of me? I never stopped telling her about its beauties! Am I just a dreamer who’s never satisfied? A spoilt child? An inconstant Princess?

  Yet I don’t regret my choice. I would have been so frightened alone on that island … and I’d never have forgiven myself for leaving the Fabula. I’d have felt like a criminal. So did I just act out of a sense o
f duty?

  No.

  I admit … there was Orpheus too.

  I can’t tell the twins that. I’ve a feeling that they are very fond of me, and rather jealous. Poor things. But soon none of our little heartaches will matter much. When the Immuration opens up before the ship, we’ll have nothing left but our tears.

  Did I make the greatest mistake of my life when I decided to come back on board?

  Sometimes Malva wondered if Catabea had intended to save her by calling up that wave and sending it towards Elgolia. Sometimes she thought the opposite, and suspected that the Guardian of the Archipelago had set a trap for her, a snare and delusion. What was the truth? It seemed impossible to tell in this universe with its strange rules.

  What I saw from the top of the tree preys on my mind, Malva went on writing. If my mother has died while I’ve been away, if Philomena is unhappy, if the Baighurs are at war and the Archont is murdering men on other ships to steal a Nokros from them, it’s my fault. I am responsible for the whole disaster. How can I say so to the others? Even Orpheus might not want to listen. So I am confiding in my journal alone. Writing is all that’s left to me … how angry my father would be to see me wasting ink and paper like this! But dear Coronador, do you still think that I write nothing but tall stories?

  When she had poured out her heart on paper long enough, Malva felt better. She looked at the Nokros. Acid was already dripping on to the last but one Stone of Life. Come on, she told herself severely. If we have only three days left to live, let’s live them to the full!

  She left her cabin and went up on deck. It was late in the morning now, and the sun was climbing to its highest point. The weather was hot, and the currents were still weak. As usual Finopico was fishing, with his feet wedged against the beak-head rail, the only one still firmly in place after the wave had struck the ship. Babilas was at the helm while Orpheus, Lei and the twins were repairing the damage to the sails.