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It was an impertinence to ask the ruler so directly, but Moran condescended to answer.
“The mother wanted to keep this country intact.”
“It will be difficult. Your retinue is already scattered throughout the city.”
“See to it that they behave humanely to the indigenous people of Aquilania for the time being.”
“You mean humans!” Quo was taken aback.
“It is exactly,” Moran nodded. The crown of earth was pressing on his forehead, so he took it off. Let only the crown of the sea remain. You can’t take it off. It’s a privilege to be born with it on your forehead. The wine of the blue fruits of the sea, mixed with the elixirs of the fairy Ariana, was running out. One must send someone trusted to fetch a second keg. Once on land, Moran felt extremely thirsty. What if that thirst proved unsatisfying? His cronies, whom he had brought with him, had already pounced on the court ladies to drink blood. But the blood did not save the thirst either. But the body of a certain Lady Elisandra, with her throat cut by sharp gills, now lay beneath his throne. He could throw the corpse into the sea, but the family would probably want to take the body to the family crypt. The most sensible thing to say in this case is that she was sacrificed to the sea god.
“Make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Moran nodded at the corpse by the throne room. The dead girl resembled a broken lily for some reason, but she had certainly not begun to turn. There were no marks on her body: no scales, no growths, no pearls growing straight out of her skin.
“Your father will be displeased that you didn’t flood the entire kingdom at once.”
“My father pleases my mother in every way, and she is against it,” Moran drained the cup. He was thirsty, but he didn’t want to go back to the sea. It was because of someone or something that had flashed across the square recently. It had the same delicate scent as the earthly flower his mother had once brought underwater. It seemed to be called a rose and possessed sharp thorns. Could the same fragrance have come from a girl?
“The brothers said that women always drown underwater, even those who reciprocated their passion.”
Quo remained dutifully silent. His spiky tail peeked out from beneath the austere robe of the counselor.
It was worth searching for the creature that gave off that scent if it was mortal and could not survive underwater. And was it possible to rule here without sending the entire palace underwater?
Moran glanced at the cracks in the ceiling and walls where algae had sprouted. His servants were too fussy.
“Darunon wants to see you, but the situation is delicate.”
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t an underwater world, if he crawled into the palace, the building probably wouldn’t accommodate him. Not to mention the terror that would befall the courtiers.”
“Aren’t they the ones who sacrifice their youngest daughters to him?”
“But they themselves have never seen him, or they would have fled from this island where he is lodged like scalded men.”
“So bloody sacrifices suit them, but the sight of someone demanding them might shock them? Funny creatures, people! At odds with themselves in everything they do.”
“They have a weak nature, your naval majesty. They have to adapt to survive. Hence are all their fears, doubts, and inadequate behavior.
Moran grinned crookedly.
“It is a weak, cunning race,” he commented. “No match for us! Then their women are no match for us.”
He should forget about the delicate creature.
It is better to think of the sea monster. He pretended to be a god and began to speculate on people’s fears and ambitions. It was sacrificed to, asked for help and protection, and paid tribute. It was doing a fine job of running the country before Moran came along. You didn’t have to come here. Darunon had already taken control of the minds and feelings of the nobles of Aquilania. And the nobles depended on his will.
The path to the half-sunken ancient temple was paved with the skulls of virgins, golden offerings, blood and bones. A scarlet path stretched to the coast between thorns and mass burial sites. The people of Aquilania were too morally weak to rally and fight back against the bloodthirsty god. They could have killed him with fire, but they took no chances, continuing to nurse the slacker who promised them protection from the floods. He can’t even give them that protection. It was up to the king of the sea, not the monster who not so long ago had dwelt in the pyramid of the underwater kingdom and fawned before its king. Now Darunon has gotten cocky. Soon he will demand that half the country be sacrificed to him. It’s time to nail him. But other matters come first. First he must assert our power in the eyes of a people intimidated by years of sacrifice.
“Where have you been before?” Moran asked the former Viceroy in his thoughts. He was not to be blamed. He didn’t know Moran could read minds. And there was no point in telling him that the period of maturation in higher beings lasts much longer than in humans. Humans were already dying in their first century of life, while Morgens were only gaining strength. In the eyes of the people of Aquilania, an entire era had passed while one of the underwater princes had barely had time to grow up.
“What does Darunon want?”
“He only wishes to pay his respects to you as the long-awaited ruler of an underwater race close to his heart.”
Very high-minded! Moran grinned again.
“Let him wait.”
“Shall I tell him so?” Quo even trembled. He was afraid of being caught like a fly in a spider’s web in a half-flooded temple.
“Tell him I’ll come to him myself when I need him.”
Quo tilted his bald head obediently, fish scales growing on it. The elaborate peacock feather beret barely concealed his terrifying head. Let the courtiers think him an ugly and cunning cripple. It’s better than if they realize that as long as they live near him, they are literally in the claws of an otherworldly being.
“You may depart!”
Quo set aside a folder and a writing case with an inkwell and sharpened quills. There were traces of typhus and water all over it. No one was standing under the windows on the sea side, so they didn’t see the royal counselor crawl over the sill and climb down the arches, coiling his slippery limbs around them. As Quo crawled down the wall toward the sea, Moran played with his empty goblet moodily, wondering how Ariana would soon arrive to supply him with a new batch of the miraculous blue wine without which it was simply impossible to go on living in the lands of mortals.
Outside the throne room, laughing, a procession of maids of honor passed by. The blood flowing through their veins immediately caught Moran’s attention. He mentally beckoned to one of the girls, preparing to slit her throat, but changed his mind, remembering that the blood did not quench his subjects’ thirst. The pretty lady stood at the threshold of the throne room in surprise, not realizing how she had dared to come here uninvited. When the spell is broken, people usually don’t realize what’s wrong.
“Get out!” Moran shouted at the maid of honor.
She immediately realized he was angry and backed away. Her pretty face showed resentment. Better to be offended than to rot in her grave. Unlike his six flighty brothers, Moran respected human life.
The corpse of Lady Elisandra Quo was carried out of the palace on his ridge and dragged to the sunken temple. She would be recorded as another victim of the sea god. The relatives will find that comforting. Nothing can be done against the power of Darunon. If the Aquilanians don’t want to sink, they must pay tribute to him.
The Green Diva
The ghastly face she’d seen in the pond wouldn’t leave her mind. The nose of the gondola drew a smooth line of spray on the water of the narrow channel, and she saw the face of the green prophetess.
The gondola was luxurious, but without an inner cabin with a canopy in which to hide. She had to sit under the supervision of a page, who turned out to be a gondolier. He handled the oar very skillfully.
Desdemona was accustomed to see gondolas exclusively with a cabin, over which the canopy spread like a tent. Where else would noblemen hide from the servants if not in the closed cabin of the gondola? Apparently, it was to remain under the supervision of the gondolier’s page during the short voyage. He explained that this canal would take them straight to the house where her stepmother was staying. It was very unusual. There were no direct channels to anywhere. They branched off, flowing into others. It was hard to swim to the target. Sounds like a lie. But the narrow channel did wind in an endless ribbon, going forward. Daffodils and irises grew along the sides of the canal. The gilded face of a female jellyfish on the nose of the gondola squinted unkindly at Desdemona. Just like a living thing. Once it even seemed to wink at her.
The pageboy’s hands looked like toad’s feet with webbing between the fingers. Maybe he’s a freak.
“You’re not sailing toward your destination, you’re sailing away from it,” came a hiss from the water. A green vapor rose above the gondola, as if the water had become a swamp. Desdemona saw overboard a familiar face framed by vipers and shrieked.
“Don’t be frightened!” The henchman was paddling as if nothing had happened.
“Did you hear that too?” She almost jumped on the spot. Why is he so indifferent? Does he have a weapon on him?
“They’re green divas.”
“What do you mean?” Desdemona’s never heard that before.
“Divas are creatures of the swamps,” the boy explained coolly. “They are usually women who look like water gods and can see the future. There are also male divas, but they are dangerous monsters. They live in the jungle. It’s risky to meet them. Swamp divas sometimes crawl into the water to muddy it and foretell bad luck.”
And he says it so calmly! Desdemona’s heart grew cold.
“Can they overturn the boat?”
“They might sink it, but they won’t. I’m with you, and I know them. You’re safe.”
That’s great! She has a child bodyguard. Maybe it’s his age that makes him so brave about the fairy tale creatures he sees. Children don’t know how dangerous fairy tales can be.
“How old are you?”
“I am at least a few hundred years old. What’s it to you?” snapped at the henchman.
“Don’t take offense! I understand perfectly well that you need to eat at any age, so no one is too young to work.”
“But they tell me that I am too old to work on the land,” said the henchman sullenly. “I’m going to work at the palace for the last hundred years, and then I’m going to be a boatman. I’ll make sure that not too many Aquillanians are dragged to the bottom by mermaids. It’s Prince Moran’s decree. Oh, I mean the King of Aquilania.”
“It is the new king. You know him personally?”
“I was talking.”
The page was sadly silent. He didn’t look old at all. He was a boy with a boy’s face and brown skin. Not white skin, but greenish for some reason. He must have had swamp fever when he was a baby. It turned his skin green. Many children died of it in the cradle. They said they were stolen by mermaids.
The henchman also looked as if he’d been briefly kidnapped and then brought back to earth by watermen.
“Sometimes I forget myself,” he tried to excuse himself. “Actually, I’m not very good with my head. I can’t remember certain human traditions. For example, you should never say what you think. It’s considered impolite on land.”
“But we’re on the water now. Say what you want. What did you say about the swamp divas? How accurate are their prophecies?”
“One hundred percent,” he said without thinking.
Desdemona was frightened.
“And what motivates them to surface to predict people’s fate?”
Now the henchman wondered.
“It is common to ask about summoning them to ask them their fate.”
“There were enough fortune-tellers in the market square.”
“There are fortune-tellers everywhere. But a diva will only make an accurate prophecy if you call her across a lake or a pond. You need clean water.”
“It is curious,” Desdemona shivered, remembering the vision in the garden.
“One must throw a gold coin into the pond and drop one’s own blood. Then a green diva will appear from the water and utter a prediction. But someone in the family will die after that. The death of a relative is the price for her summoning.”
“But no one in my family has died, except for the maid.”
“Did you summon her?”
“I don’t think so. She did show up unexpectedly, just showing up in the pond.”
“Well, then why are you worried?”
“I’m afraid of everything. Especially my stepmother’s frivolity and that my brothers will drown during the long voyage.”
“All you young human ladies are so fragile and fearful,” the henchman said with a careless snicker.
So much was it for her gratitude for pouring out her soul to him. One should never be frank with servants. Stepmother was right. She often lectured Desdemona. Her admonitions made her ears ache.
“Here we go!”
The canal, oddly enough, flowed right to the doorstep of the small cottage. The water collected in a small pool around the steps leading up to the porch. The base of the staircase was underwater, and on the door instead of a handle hung a ring embedded in a bas-relief in the shape of some terrifying sea creature. Desdemona was even frightened.
The gondola docked at the half-submerged steps.
“That’s it! I must go back to the palace,” the page helped her out of the gondola.
What hands he has! Desdemona shuddered at the touch of webbed fingers partially covered with scales. Even swamp fever doesn’t leave marks like that.
“Thank you for bringing it,” she said forcefully. You have to be polite.
“Thank the king. He’s the one who told me to escort you home.”
“Who did it?”
That sounds too fanciful. More like a corny boy’s joke. Who doesn’t know that every poor provincial girl dreams of attracting the king’s attention? Desdemona turned sharply with the intention of reprimanding the pageboy for his insolence, but both he and the gondola were already gone. The canal they had come from had somehow disappeared with them. Only a path overgrown with daffodils led to the cottage. There was not even a puddle near the cottage.
Swamp Prophetess
Candida rented a small but cozy two-story cottage. There was somewhere to stay while waiting for the official festivities after the coronation, which all the nobles were expected to attend. Those who were richer either had their own houses in the capital or rented entire mansions. This was not their case with their stepmother! Their cottage was surrounded by wild honeysuckle, balsam and rose hips. It was a picturesque place, but too far from the city.
Desdemona thought someone was hiding in the attic windows. It was all imagination. She pulled the ring. The door creaked nastily. The cramped hallway was dark. None of the servants greeted her.
But Desdemona mistook a green horned silhouette with many octopus-like limbs standing at the window, blocking out all the light, for a coat rack. And when she realized who was in front of her, she recoiled like a scalded woman.
The green diva, erect at full height, resembled a giantess from the swamp. Snakes swarmed in a halo around her head. There were several arms. From her back grew something like numerous slimy tails. They were fanning over her neck.
Desdemona did not know what to think. The creature in front of her was both magnificent, like an ancient deity, and horrible, like a character from children’s horror stories.
“You ate my whole family? Why is this place empty? It’s not a swamp! Go back! Or crawl away!”
The green face grinned snidely. Yellow eyes glittering yellow stared at the girl.
This was not the diva who had spoken to her from the pond. The face, though similar, was different. It would be beautiful if it weren’t for the frightening lumpy growths, like gills, and the predatory gaze. In addition, a third eye suddenly opened on her forehead beneath her snake hair. It was not yellow, but red.
“You are nineteenth Priestess,” the diva held out one clawed green hand. “As soon as you join us in the temple, the whole country will sink. All you need to do is perform the ritual.”
Desdemona staggered back, hit a large floor candlestick with her back, and knocked it over. It was better than if she had fallen herself. The floor beneath her feet was slippery. A viscous green sludge coated the floorboards.
