She hurried from the riverbank. Edak followed, somewhat perplexed. The climb up the hill was easy now, the stone path too, and all too soon they were standing in the marble doorway.
They entered the building laughing at each other’s appearance, sweat beads dripping from their faces. Myreem’s hair hung disheveled. Some of the shells had fallen and a braid was undone. She removed her veil, glowing with rosy radiance.
Edak stared at her longer than was polite. She noticed and cast her eyes down awkwardly.
“I enjoyed the morning,” said Edak. “May I visit again?”
“I enjoyed it, too. Yes, come back—soon. But next time I will not stay away so long.”
“Ahem.” The noise filled the room and startled the two.
They stared into the darkened corner, squinting to make out who was there. Edak’s eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and he recognized a sinewy, muscular man at the table, a partially opened scroll before him. He looked drowsy with boredom.
“Gedran!” Edak made his way to the runner and they clasped wrists. “Have you been here long?”
Gedran gratefully rolled up the parchment and returned it to its place on a shelf. “At least two hands I’ve waited. I went to your house and talked with your mother. She said I would find you here.”
“Is there a message from the queen?”
“Yes,” said Gedran. “She wishes to see you as soon as you can take the time.”
“About what?”
“It is not my place to know.”
Edak’s brow furrowed. “Matters here can wait. I will return with you.”
Gedran smiled wryly. “Califia had hoped you would.”
Edak looked at Myreem and softened. “I had a wonderful time. I will come again soon.”
She reached for Edak’s hand, then, remembering Gedran’s presence, declined. “Yes, soon.”
Edak returned home with Gedran to tell Ogra of the queen’s request, then went to the docks. A small passenger boat sat among the merchant ships and the captain stood when he recognized Gedran. There would only be the two passengers, and they set sail immediately.
Soon the noise and busyness of the dock was left behind, then the village too, and now the gentle river and dense forest were all they could see. Water rippled around the boat. Shimmering patterns reflected up on its riders. Trees lining the banks hid all traces of life within its depths, save for the birds and a few monkeys among the branches.
The two men stood at the rail and stared out at nothing in particular. “Gedran,” said Edak, “are you at liberty to tell me why Califia wishes to see me?”
“As I said, she hasn’t told me, nor is it my business,” said Gedran curtly. After a pause he added, “I am only a runner. I know nothing of the queen’s affairs.” He studied the river silently.
“Of course,” said Edak, flushing slightly. Perhaps he had been rude to this messenger.
Then, “However, I do know she received a letter from the Atlantean Council of Nations a quarter moon ago. She has appeared quite troubled since.”
Gedran spoke no more of the matter and Edak didn’t question.
By twilight they had reached the queen’s village and they hurried to her quarters. She sat reading a small scroll when the men entered. Her face lit up at the sight of them. “Edak! Greetings! I have been waiting for you. Gedran, thank you for finding our friend.”
Gedran bowed. “My pleasure, Gracious Queen.” He turned and silently left.
Califia studied Edak silently. “Please, refresh yourself,” she said at last, gesturing to a tray of tea, fruit, fish and flatbread. “It is especially good this evening.”
“Thank you, Gracious Queen. We had a meal on the boat, which filled me. But perhaps a bit of fruit and tea...” He picked a small cluster of grapes.
Califia watched him select the snack and place it on a palm leaf. He reached for the pitcher and poured the tea into his mug, returned the pitcher and glanced up.
She was still studying him. “You’re an interesting person, Edak. Of all the people I’ve known, you stand out in my mind. Such unselfish desires drive you. Why is that, my friend?”
“I don’t know. I follow my interests, which also provide my livelihood. I don’t know what else I would like to do.”
Califia smiled wistfully and was silent. Ah, to do what one wishes to do. Surely, that would be the life. She watched him drink and thought back.
As a young girl, she had often wanted to play with other children, but instead had obeyed her tutors and studied dry lessons. A princess did as she was expected to do. She walked, talked, acted and thought as was expected of a member of the royal family, and was accompanied by teachers most of the day. Certainly, she would have loved to do what she wished—to run, to play, to chatter and giggle with young friends.
She didn’t tell Edak of her special friend in adolescence—how handsome he was, a gentle man who came to share everything in her life—glances, words, caresses, dreams. She ached even now at the memory.
This man was to share the throne with her. They had spoken of it often and the families agreed. At last she would have what she desired. Everyone in Mu spoke excitedly of the upcoming royal marriage.
But, just three days before the wedding, a storm swept the coastline where she lived—a hurricane. She didn’t tell Edak of the uprooted tree crushing her darling, and crushing her dreams.
But she remembered now—she remembered how the young princess willed she would love no man again, but would live for the love and duty of her country.
“Yes, Edak,” she said wistfully. “A person must do what he is destined to do.”
She was silent now and Edak thought he should speak. Yet no words came. He put a grape in his mouth and crushed it in his teeth. The sweet juice refreshed him and he was thankful for a reason not to talk.
“And how are your experiments coming with the marshgrass?” Califia asked at last. “We are growing it here near the village, but we haven’t had time to go into the forest to see the results.”
He swallowed the fruit. “We continue as before, only on a larger scale. Almost everything I grow now is marshgrass and I’ve distributed it to my neighbors to grow. We are determined to continue as planned.”
He knew Califia was a busy woman and had no time for idle chatter. “Is there a reason you ask about this?”
She took an orchid from a clay bowl of water and touched her fingers to the petals. “Yes, Edak. The Council of Nations has been discussing the animal problem.” She studied the blossom, then replaced it in the water. “There are more people alive now than ever before. Lands previously untouched by humans are now being settled. And so, the creatures seem to be more of a menace because of this. They must be subdued.”
She looked down at the scroll she had been going over and sighed. “The Council wants to use the powerful Atlantean weapons that have recently been invented. Do you know of them?”
Edak recalled a recent letter from Seratl Ti and felt a chill down his spine. “Yes, Gracious Queen. I know of them. They are all the talk from Atlan today. Explosives and poisonous chemicals that are incredibly powerful. Though they are for the most part untested, the leaders are already giddy with power.”
She took the orchid again and absentmindedly put it to her nose as if it had fragrance. “The Atlantean scientists believe they can destroy all the animals immediately. But I feel apprehension. I don’t know why.”
“I agree,” said Edak. “There is no regulation to the strength of the weapons. Such power! What else would be destroyed with the beasts? Would all our wild creatures be lost or only the most dangerous? We need time to study these matters.”
Califia sighed. She felt old, and tired. Her hands and the flower fell to her lap. “Edak, do you think we could ask them to change their minds? Could we coax them to try your marshgrass?”
“Our way certainly seems safer. To control which animals eat
the grass—no pain caused, no damage to the Earth...” He thought for a moment. “I know it will work,” he concluded. “When will this Council be held?”
“On the spring equinox, in Poseidl.”
“So soon.” He stared at nothing for a few moments, then looked at Califia. “With your permission, I will accompany you.”
Califia smiled and nodded.
* * * *
Chapter 17
Edak stared out at the blue-green ocean before him, mindless of the pleasant day, the breeze and the gentle rocking of the ship. He was focused on the words of Engor and Disnak, Califia’s advisors, at his side. Ambassadors to Poseidl, they had much to tell of Atlan’s discoveries.
“The formulas are simple enough,” Disnak was saying, his thick, white eyebrows nearly hiding his eyes. “Merely derivatives of black betel cress and mare’s tree, a concoction that stings the tongue and causes the eyes to smart.” Though in his sixties, he was as animated as someone half his age. Now an index finger thrust the air to stress his point. “But, subject the mixtures to heat—intensely high heat—and behold, the new, dangerously evil toxins. Terribly potent; mostly untested.”
“Ay,” said Engor softly. “Sometimes the simplest matters have the most power.” Engor was middle-aged, of slight build and quiet voice. “The explosives are also of this nature. Take the sap from the genjutl tree and make a mixture with the minerals hendral and orilade. Easy, no? Simple?” He shook his head slightly. “I have seen this formula’s power; so deadly, a large tree—hundreds of years old—crumbled easily with the detonation of a tiny amount. Crumbled!”
After pausing for his words to be properly grasped, he continued, “Boulders, larger than any man, shatter into small pebbles. And the noise! It is as loud as the closest thunder or a volcano erupting. The very air one breathes turns hot and knocks a grown man to the ground.”
Edak stared at the waves, wondering about these inventions. Atlanteans seem so quick to destroy without forethought. He remembered Atlan fondly, for had he not spent much of his childhood there? He had known love and fellowship. But yes, it was a materialistic society, one of impulsive, impetuous people. So different from the Murians.
Long ago, Seratl Ti had stressed that all people are the same underneath, and Edak had found that to be true. So, he would have to appeal to that part of the Atlanteans common to all humanity.
A breeze blew wisps of hair into his face and he brushed them away. He studied the water lapping the side of the ship, as if the proper words would whisper up from the deep. And, as if actually spoken, the answer formed in his head. I was raised in Atlan and know the people well. Disnak and Engor have resided in Poseidl intermittently for many years. We understand the Atlantean mind. How can there be a problem, once they understand the alternative?
* *
It was strange, and good, to be back in Atlan after their long voyage, but today he couldn’t dispel a lingering sense of foreboding. Though Edak had never been in Poseidl before, it nevertheless felt familiar, as there was so much here that reminded him of Aryaz. Shiny streets and large marble buildings decorated with statues and friezes were everywhere.
Disnak and Engor walked briskly down the street, with Califia and Edak close behind. The sun was cooler and drier than in Mu, so woolen cloaks sheltered them from the early morning chill. How drab they appeared in their plain brown clothes, contrasting starkly with the ornate, colorful world of the Atlanteans. Even Califia’s light yellow garb was simple in comparison.
Pink and gold light reflected off buildings, and sounds of a city waking up for business echoed everywhere. The city was large and the Council of Nations was situated far from the inn where they had spent the night.
And yet, in spite of the joy of seeing Atlan once again, and although the day promised to be beautiful, the ominous throbbing in his forehead continued. He tried to brush it aside. Perhaps it is the excitement of being in this great land...maybe the change of schedule these many days from home...perhaps the change in diet and water. It must be!
Ahead in the distance loomed a tall black marble building marked with white columns. It dwarfed the other edifices about it. “There it is,” said Disnak. “The Council of Nations.”
Edak stared in awe at the rectangular structure. So huge! How could such a thing exist without tumbling down? What a marvel of architectural genius! Gold leaf adorned every corner and gleamed in the sun, accentuating the black and white of the marble. On the roof, looking out over the city, stood twenty-seven statues of gods and goddesses—some winged, some part-human, part-beast. Edak had learned a little of Atlan’s mythology and recognized a few. There, in a chariot, stood Poseidl, god of the sea, for which Poseidl was named; and over there, the great Atl, first ruler of Atlan. What great men or truths inspired these conceptions? Where did history end and myth begin?
At the square, people congregated for the day’s business. Everyone was busy and in a hurry. This was one aspect of Atlan Edak had never missed, this failure of the people to look around and enjoy. Indeed, they always needed to be somewhere else.
“I am not sure about this,” Califia said suddenly. “Everything felt good until today. I hope it is only my imagination.”
His stomach tightened. “Of course it is,” he said, perhaps too assuringly. The day was beautiful, passersby smiling, birds singing. Yet, it seemed surreal, as if in a dream. And all the while, his forehead throbbed. “We have been under a lot of excitement and stress. We simply must calm down and know that our way will be acceptable.”
He didn’t tell lies well, and Califia eyed him strangely before masking her own thoughts. “Of course, dear friend. Of course.”
“Though we could wait one day, to rest up…” added Edak.
Disnak and Engor were too far ahead to have heard the conversation. They busied themselves greeting old friends of the Council and chatting about the forthcoming meeting. Flanked by four representatives from other nations, they turned and waved at Edak and Califia impatiently, then started up the white marble steps.
“Our decision seems to have been made for us,” said Califia, smiling weakly.
Califia and Edak didn’t talk. They reached the steps and climbed silently. Edak counted each footfall—all twenty-seven. Califia struggled to catch her breath as they reached the top.
In the pause, Edak looked inside at the large foyer. An international throng of dignitaries milled about, and a murmur of strange-sounding tongues filled the room.
“There are Engor and Disnak,” he said as Califia’s breathing returned to normal. They stood near the entrance and seemed at home among the others, in spite of their plainness and tall stature. “Only in such an international scene does a Murian not look odd,” he said lightheartedly. Califia chuckled, but it was forced.
“Thank you for waiting for us,” she said as they reached the foyer. “We are lost here without you as our guides.”
“It all seems strange at first...” Disnak began, but was interrupted by the deep tone of a gong. “Session is about to begin. Let us go in.”
An echoed patter of hundreds of sandals filled the hall. The cool air wafted on their faces and in their hair, and a smell of ancientness brought a feeling of dignity and awe. The walls shone with polished marble everywhere in black, white and all shades and hues in between.
How appropriate, thought Edak. The walls differ as much as the people, who also are of varying color. What a blending of humanity. Yes, it is for the good of these people that I speak today.
The elaborate mixture of dress, hairstyles, skin tone, jewelry and footwear poured down the wide corridor. Each small group that passed seemed to be conversing in a different language, and different accents of Atlantean floated about as foreigners spoke to each other in the world tongue.
They were herded into an inner room filled with a semicircle of small desks with benches, all facing a large table. On each desk was placed a small sheet of parchment, a vial of ink
and a brush, that notes could be made if necessary. In a corner sat two tiny pebbles, one black, one white. Following Disnak and Engor, the four found seats near the middle of the room.
The pulsating in his forehead nagged at Edak and reminded him once more why they were here. He stared at others taking their seats and wondered what they were thinking, how they would react to the Murians’ offer.
A stocky man entered, clad in a long, deep blue brocade robe. His black hair was streaked with gray, cut in the Atlantean style. All conversation quieted and Disnak whispered, “It is Chairman Ota.”
Ota looked about the room and smiled, then sat at the big table and read from a sheet of parchment while the remaining bits of hushed whisperings trailed off. When all was quiet, he stood again. Another smile crossed his round face. “Good morning. I’m happy to see every seat filled. But of course, how could it be otherwise with such an important issue at hand?”
He paused while an excited murmuring floated around the room. He waited until silence returned. “You all know why we are here,” he continued. “We unite in effort to solve the problem of the great animals. Is their population increasing or is it because humanity grows in number—spreading out to areas previously untouched by people—that reports of their killings seem more numerous? Ah, well. It matters not which reason is true. The problem exists and we are here to solve it.”
Sweeping his hand grandly over to point out his countrymen, his voice rose with pride. “As you know, the Atlanteans have an amazing new plan. Mah-Kradl, please rise and tell us about it.”
An aged Atlantean slowly arose and brushed a wisp of white hair from his face. He looked around, then cleared his throat and grinned confidently. “As you may already have heard, we have developed explosives which are very powerful, also some very potent toxins which should be of great use in our battle. Simply stated, we plan to go to the various areas of animal habitations and destroy them. We can reach them in the fields, forests, caves and any other hiding places. Our poisons, left in their lairs and nesting sites, will eradicate any creature we may have missed with the explosives.”