The food gods were called Juan and Kimberly Rodriguez. They were benevolent gods. At least Osa thought so. Osa was a mutt. A mid-sized dog, with a face like a lab and the brown and black coloring of a German shepherd. Her large feet suggested that she still had some growing to do. She had only been in the house of the gods a day and was still learning the way of things.
There were other animals in the house of the gods. Two guinea pigs called Ginger and Nutmeg, a scarlet macaw named Tango, and a tabby cat named Duchess.
Tango explained that he was the prophet of the gods-the only animal who could speak to them in their own tongue. He relayed their messages to the other animals.
Tango told Osa all kinds of things that first day. He explained that the guinea pigs were in charge of the sacred food chants. Whenever they sang, the gods would rain vegetables upon them.
Osa liked looking at the guinea pigs; they were cute and fluffy, fat and juicy. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to lick them affectionately or eat them. Tango explained that eating the guinea pigs would be a sin. He went on to warn her about several other sins, including overturning the sacred kitchen bin and eating from the gods’ table. Osa thought all of it sounded difficult, but agreed to try her best.
The parrot then warned her very sternly never to listen to the cat. The cat was an atheist. She did not believe that Juan and Kimberly were gods. Sometimes she acted as if they existed to serve her. She committed all kinds of sins and somehow got away with it. She would even sin in the presence of the gods, looking them right in the eyes as she knocked their water glasses off the table.
Osa found all of this difficult to process. If the gods didn’t want her to turn over the sacred kitchen bin, then why did they fill it with wonderful things? Why was the cat immune to their wrath?
That very day, she committed dozens of sins. She ate a slipper, snatched a cookie from the counter top, and even overturned the forbidden bin. The god Juan caught her in the act and made her do penance in the kennel. Luckily, Juan and Kimberly were merciful and soon she was set free and allowed to sit between them as they stared into the sacred light box that evening.
Their mercy only made her love them more.
The next day was paradise. They threw sticks for her in the yard, gave her treats, and scratched the sweet spot at the base of her tail. She became their shadow, following them all through the house. She didn’t want to let them out of her site for a minute.
Then the following day, something horrible happened. She was eating her kibbles when she heard the door slam. Her head shot up. She looked all around the kitchen. Then galloped to the front door. She listened to Juan and Kimberly’s footsteps moving away down the walk. Her heart pounded. The gods were gone.
She let out a long and mournful howl, ate the nearest shoe, then galloped around the house in circles crying: “The gods are gone! The gods are gone! They’ve abandoned us!”
She was so anxious that she knocked over the sacred bin and ate everything inside. When she was finished, she sat in the carnage, howling: “the gods are gone!”
“Who cares?” Came the voice of the cat. She was lying on her side next to her empty food dish. “They don’t care about us, why should we care about them?”
“They do care! They do!” Osa protested. “They are good gods!”
“No,” Dutchess replied. “If they were good, they would have fed me this morning. They did not.”
“Yes they did,” Osa countered. “I remember because I tried to share with you and you scratched me.”
“Lies,” the cat answered. “I am too frail for such violence. Do you see how my ribs protrude from my withering body? They do not feed me. They never have. If they don’t come back, I won’t care. I can do just fine without their warm laps and soft caresses.” She let out a long despondent sigh. “I’m better off alone.”
The dog was horrified. She needed advice. She galloped out of the kitchen and found the guinea pigs in their cage in the den.
“Fluffs! Fluffs!” The dog pleaded. “The gods have left and the cat says they’re never coming back! He says we are going to starve.”
A pink nose protruded from a wooden house in the corner. Then Ginger appeared followed by Nutmeg.
“Let us see if our sacred food chant brings them back,” Nutmeg suggested.
The guinea pigs both placed their fore-paws on their food dish and lifted their heads in song. But no matter how they wheeked, the gods did not appear and food was not added to their bowl.
“Well,” Ginger said after a moment. “The cat’s right. We are all going to starve.”
Osa went into a fit. She tore a corner of the rug to pieces and then ate a throw pillow. What did it matter if she sinned against the gods? All was lost!
Then, she remembered the parrot. He alone could understand their speech, maybe he knew something the others didn’t.
Tango stood on his perch in the dining room, looking suspiciously into the magic portal. The magic portal was an oval shaped window that dangled on the wall right next to his branch. It was framed by a cheap yellow piece of plastic. Strings, beads, and jingle bells dangled from the frame. Another bird looked out of the magic portal at Tango. The other bird was identical. He mimicked Tango’s every move. Tango turned his head sideways and regarded the duplicate with one suspicious eye.
Osa barreled into the room accidentally overshooting the perch. She stopped running all at once and skidded several paces across the wood floor.
“Tango!” The dog exclaimed.
“Have I warned you about this infidel yet?” The parrot interrupted, his eye still set upon the bird in the magic portal.
“Tango, the gods–”
“He may look like me,” Tango interrupted. “He may speak like me, but he is a false prophet. He is full of lies and deception.”
Osa did not hesitate. She leapt up, grabbing the magic portal in her teeth and ripped it from the wall. It fell to the ground, shiny side down, and the false prophet was gone.
Tango stumbled backward in alarm, his wings extended.
“You have killed the false prophet!” Tango exclaimed. “I knew the gods brought you here for a reason!”
“But Tango, the gods are gone! The cat said they are never coming back!”
“I told you not to listen to the cat,” the bird replied. “Yes, the gods are gone, but they will return.”
“How do you know!” Osa whined.
“Because the god Juan gave me this message before departing.” The parrot fluffed his head up as he translated Juan’s words from English to Doggish. “Bye bye, Tango. Gotta go to work.”
“What does it mean?” Osa asked.
“Work is the realm of the gods,” Tango explained. “They ascend to Work five days each week leaving after breakfast and returning before dinner. Then for two days, they stay home. Five and two and five and two, the pattern repeats.”
“Why?” Osa asked.
“The gods’ ways are mysterious,” Tango answered.
Osa didn’t feel like that was an answer at all. Then she realized to her horror that the gods would come back and see all the sins she had committed. What would happen then? Would they want her to stay? Would they smite her? Would they send her back to Shelter? She did not want to go back to Shelter. Shelter was loud, and cold, and lonely.
Maybe, if she begged their forgiveness they would be merciful to her again. After all, despite what the cat said, they seemed like good gods.
When they returned, she was standing among the wreckage in the kitchen looking up at them with sorrowful brown eyes. She tried to wag her tail, but she could see they were upset and her tail could only make one half-hearted thump. She spent some time doing penance in the kennel while they put things back in order. Then, to her delight, they released her.
They rubbed her ears, and said nice things. She didn’t understand them, but their voices made her feel warm and happy. They let her sit between them while they stared into the sacred light box that evening.
She heard them talking to each other and wondered what they were saying. As if reading her mind, Tango flew down onto the back of the couch and said: “You have found favor with the gods. They are rewarding you for killing the false prophet by sending you to a place called Obedience School.”
Osa wagged her tail happily. She didn’t care what the cat said. She liked these gods and wanted them to stay.
Supper was some sort of fish stew. Philothea helped Raven prepare by setting the table. Zoe hopped back and forth, trying to straighten spoons with her beak. Philothea supposed it was making her feel helpful. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much more Zoe could do in her current state.
Pouli perched on the back of one of the chairs next to Fae, regarding her suspiciously.
“You are a naughty bird,” he accused.
“I am a good girl,” Fae objected. “You are a naughty little bird. Go back in your little cage, you tiny thing.”
Poul’s head inflated at this insult. He released several irritated screeches, then fluttered up, landed on Fae’s head, and sang:
“Pouli is a giant bird, the biggest of them all!
Pouli is the bird supreme; he is so very tall!”
Fae remained calm and responded with a good-natured, “Ho, ho, ho, you say so little one.”
Philothea put a bowl down for Zoe. Even though she was a bird, she thought she’d at least like to be treated like a human.
“Don’t forget the other two,” Raven said, handing Philothea two more bowls.
For a second, Philothea thought that Raven was mocking her for setting a place for Zoe, but she seemed completely serious. So Philothea set a place for the two birds also.
Raven had busied herself slicing up bread and was regarding Philothea quizzically as she worked. Philothea could feel Raven’s gaze boring into her, studying her. It was deeply uncomfortable.
After what seemed like forever, they all sat (or perched) at the table. It took all of Philothea’s strength not to instantly drain her bowl. She didn’t normally like fish stew, or anything fishy for that matter, but under the circumstances, it was divine.
“Now, since I’ve been good enough to keep you alive,” Raven said. “I expect you to return the favor by answering some questions for me.”
“Not killing us is a favor?” Zoe remarked.
Raven ignored this and kept her gaze on Philothea.
“You’re part fae, aren’t you?”
Philothea froze. “How did you know?”
“Because I’ve only ever felt power like yours once, and it was when I was near another half-fae.” She took a sip of water. “Lucky for me, you have no idea how to use it.”
With some food in her stomach, Philothea was starting to feel better. Her head cleared, her anxiety subsided. She also got the distinct impression that Raven’s threats were empty. Her instincts were telling her that, despite Raven’s words, she was very kind-hearted.
Here was a woman who could offer Philothea a window to the world of the fae. Threats or no threats, she was going to take advantage of this opportunity.
“What’s it like being a fae?” she blurted.
Raven frowned and raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“That is the rudest question I’ve ever heard,” she replied. “Do you see me going around asking that bird of yours what it’s like being a starling? Or asking that other bird of yours what it’s like being a human?”
“Wait, you know I’m a human?” Zoe asked.
“Of course you’re a human,” Raven answered. “You talk like a human. You reason like a human. I’m guessing your little friend here,” (She motioned to Philothea.) “Was experimenting with her powers, and that’s how you got stuck in that form.”
“Can you turn me back?” Zoe asked hopefully.
“Yes,” Raven answered.
Zoe looked at Raven expectantly, but the latter had turned her attention back to Philothea.
“So you don’t know your parents,” she guessed. “Raised in an orphanage, probably.”
“Yes, I was left at a temple as an infant,” Philothea explained. “I didn’t know I was a fae until–”
“Zeno came looking for you?” Raven answered.
“You know an awful lot for someone who doesn’t talk to other people,” Zoe pointed out.
“I said I don’tlike other people,” Raven corrected. “Not that I don’t talk to them. I’m also pretty good at filling in missing information. Now, I can’t imagine Zeno tolerating the existence of another half-fae. If he knew about you, he would most certainly hunt you down.”
“Zeno is half-fae?” Philothea exclaimed.
“Yes, and unlike you, he actually knows how to use his power,” Raven added. She dropped her spoon into her empty bowl and stretched. “It really would be best for everyone if I just kill you before you figure that out.”
“You naughty thing!” Pouli said. “Don’t kill the princess!”
Raven looked at Pouli. “Maybe I’ll just hand her over to Zeno and let him do it for me. I’m sure I’d be handsomely rewarded.”
Philothea tensed. “I’m sure my mother would reward you if you helped me find her instead.”
Raven withdrew a pipe from her pocket and grinned. “Your mother is only a fae; she wouldn’t last a second against Zeno.”
“Wait a moment,” Philothea blurted. “But, Zeno’s only half fae, how–”
“If you breed a lion and a tiger,” Raven interrupted. “The resulting cubs are bigger and more powerful than either of the parents. The child of a human and a fae is not half as strong as either, but twice as strong as both.”
Raven held her thumb and forefinger together, allowing a tiny flame to erupt between them. Then she used this to light her pipe.
“Um…” Zoe chirped. “Sorry to change the subject, but you said you could turn me back–”
“Yes, I can,” Raven interrupted, then, looking at Philothea, she continued. “I’m a lot of things, little one, but I am not dishonest. I, like you, am only trying to survive. If I let you go, and Zeno finds out, he’ll kill me. If he doesn’t, my own king will certainly find out and kill me.”
“Why?” Philothea pressed.
“He finds half-fae threatening,” Raven shrugged. “And after what Zeno’s become, I can’t say I blame him.” She sighed. “The way I see it, I have three options. I can kill you myself and then pretend I never saw you. But then, I’d have to kill your bird friends also to keep them quiet, and I don’t want to do that.” She stroked Fae. “I like birds, you see.”
“You’re a sweet girl,” Fae replied, puffing her head affectionately.
“Oh, thank you, Fae. You’re a sweet girl, too.” Raven kissed her and then looked back at Philothea. “I could also take you to Zeno, and maybe he’d let me keep your birds in exchange. Or, I could give you to my own king and let him decide what to do. In all three scenarios, the outcome for you is the same.” She frowned. “So, little one, what would you have me do?”
Philothea regarded Raven thoughtfully. Her instincts about her were right. She didn’t want to harm her; she just didn’t see a way around it.
“Can’t you just let us go and pretend you never saw us?” Zoe asked.
“No. If Zeno found out I let a half-fae go, it would be the end of me.”
Philothea fingered the ring in her pocket. She felt her heart pounding in her chest. She had an idea, but… well, it was crazy. She couldn’t… but… she sort of felt like she could… An unfamiliar confidence began to form deep within her.Holy Creator, what do I do? She prayed. Is this feeling coming from you?
Then, for reasons that were utterly beyond her, she blurted, “You could train me! And then, I’ll protect you!”
Raven burst out laughing. Zoe snapped her sharp beak in Philothea’s direction, alarmed. Philothea was also surprised. What was she thinking? Could she really make such a promise?
“Zeno wants to kill me because there’s a prophecy that I will defeat him,” Philothea insisted. “If that happens, don’t you want to be on my side?”
Raven grinned, leaned forward, and laced her fingers on the table in front of her.
“A sweet little girl like you, making threats?”
Philothea turned bright red. She hadn’t meant it as a threat. Did it sound threatening? Embarrassment burned her cheeks. “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way…” she stuttered. “I’d never hurt anyone. I’d rather be killed than kill, I–”
The amusement on Raven’s face increased tenfold. “I believe you. Leads me to wonder how you’re going to overthrow Zeno.” She laughed again. “Sorry, I’m just picturing you trying to kindly convince him to give up his evil ways.”
“Look, I don’t need to kill anyone,” Philothea insisted. “I just… well, if I am as powerful as you say, then I’ll find some way to protect you. I just need someone to train me, that’s all.”
Raven drummed her fingers on the table as she regarded Philothea.
She sighed, “I’ll tell you what. I won’t kill you today. Tomorrow…” she shrugged. “Maybe I’ll train you, maybe I’ll kill you. I suppose it depends on how grumpy I am in the morning.”
Philothea smiled, confident her instincts were correct. Raven was not going to hurt her.
“Now that that’s decided, will you turn me back?” Zoe asked.
Raven ignored her.
“Help me clean up, will you?” she asked Philothea. “We should all get some sleep because, whether I kill you or train you, tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”
Well, Helios had done exactly that, and after fifteen years of unpaid labor, was beginning to think it was a bad idea.
His deepest desire, his greatest longing, his lifelong dream, was to become chief steward of Lysander the Conqueror’s household. So, in his youth, he interviewed dozens of highly successful stewards and took detailed notes about their career paths. Almost all of them said the same thing: “The first step is to beg some wealthy patrician to make you his slave.”
Helios went directly to Lysander’s chief steward, Epikrates, and, being very careful not to mention he was coming for his job, begged to be added to the conqueror’s household staff.
Epikrates gave him a job in the kitchen, flushing toilets, which were in the kitchen back then. And by Dithis! Helios flushed! He ran back and forth, filling buckets with water and dumping them down the toilets as needed. Epikrates was so impressed by his flushing, he promoted him to tile polisher. Again, Helios put his all into it, polishing tiles like no slave before him.
As the years passed, Helios came closer and closer to his dream job by putting his all into every task set before him. Soon, he had a quarter of Lysander’s slaves working under him, then a half, then one day, he became second only to Epikrates himself.
Finally, he was within spitting distance of his lifelong dream! All he needed was a little patience.
When, one day, a messenger brought word of Lysander’s return, Epikrates and Helios took an entourage of servants and went out to the Bridge of Elokopalopa to meet him. They brought with them palm fans, tambourines, refreshments, and everything else a household would need to greet a returning conqueror.
Helios could tell the emperor was in a sour mood even from a distance by his rigid posture. As he drew closer, Helios noticed the hard line that was Lysander’s mouth, his tightly knit brows, and the dents in his armor.
His men didn’t look much better; they were scratched up and bloody, and some of them had arrows protruding from various places.
It was probably not the best moment for Epikrates to rush forward with a grin and say, “Welcome home, oh Victorious One! How was the eastern frontier?”
Helios was amazed that Epikrates didn’t have more sense. Still, even he did not expect Lysander to grab the steward by the neck and throw him off the bridge.
All the slaves, Helios included, watched in amazement as their superior went hurtling to his doom.
After a distant splash, the conqueror turned an exasperated face toward Helios.
“You!” he said, thrusting a finger at him. “What’s your name?”
Helios felt a sudden tingling in his chest, but from terror or excitement, he didn’t know.
“Helios, Oh Great One,” Helios replied.
“Get me the strongest drink you can find,” Lysander pleaded.
Helios raced to obey, his heart pounding in his chest. The chief steward position was now vacant… Lysander had noticed him… His greatest dreams were about to be realized!
He poured the wine and handed Lysander the cup. The emperor drank the entire thing in one gulp because, when you’re the emperor, you can drink wine in one gulp without anyone questioning you.
Thrusting the cup back into Helios’ hands, he cried, “Epikrates! Ready the household! I’m going home!”
An awkward silence followed, then Lysander swore to himself.
“I just killed Epikrates, didn’t I?” he realized. “Who is going to ready my household?”
Helios was trying his best not to shake with excitement. He was the obvious choice.
“You,” Lysander cried, pointing to him.
Helios grinned.
“Get me more wine!”
As Helios rushed to obey, he noticed Lysander pointing to a gangly young man who happened to be standing at the front of the welcoming party. This was Stephen, a recent addition to the staff, brought back from Lysander’s last conquest. The emperor seemed to lighten up a little at the sight of him.
“Steve, Steve, Stephen! My favorite spear polisher! You’re getting a promotion!”
A rage boiled through Helios. He had worked for years, doing each and every mundane task perfectly! He had given up his freedom, his rights, his… other parts of himself… all for the sake of his dream. What had Stephen ever done?
Stephen wasn’t even Lysandrian! He was just some fisherman who’d been snatched from his homeland! What did he know about managing a great household?
Still, Helios, not wanting to be hurled off the bridge, chose the path of silent resentment and fetched Lysander his wine.
Thus, instead of becoming the chief steward that day, he became the emperor’s cupbearer.
His parents had once implored him not to sell himself into slavery. At the time, he called them dream-killers. Now, he realized they were absolutely right.
The one nice thing about being Lysander’s cupbearer was that Helios was always standing behind Lysander’s throne and thus got to witness all of the goings-on in the Imperial court.
One day, Lysander decided to boast to all his nobles about a philosopher he had brought back from his conquest of Helevinia. When the philosopher in question, Rouvin, as they called him, was brought forward, Helios did not see anything particularly special about him. In fact, he looked exactly like every other cranky old man Helios had ever seen—hardened eyes, furrowed brow, and a beard that needed a trim.
Lysander claimed the man was some kind of a genius who would bring a new age of enlightenment to his city. Education happened to be Lysander’s latest fixation. In months past, it had been aqueducts, and before that, obelisks.
Still, with nothing better to do than hold a goblet, Helios listened intently to see what profound thoughts this wise man would bring to Lysander’s fair city.
And Helios was not disappointed, for indeed, Rouvin was wise. He spoke about how everything in the universe was made up of four elements—water, earth, fire, and air. How, in turn, the movable elements were made up of nautilus spirals, and the immovable elements made up of triangles. How the spirit of man is a camel, how actual things are greater than the idea of things, and how prudence guides all other virtues.
After that first introduction, Lysander decided all further lectures by Rouvin would be delivered as they walked along the beach. The emperor and his new teacher would lead the party, and the men of his court would follow behind in a procession.
Helios would walk just to the emperor’s left, holding a wine jug and goblet. And of course, Lysander never went anywhere without a couple of fan girls. For Rouvin’s lectures, he liked to bring Emilia and Dafni because, not only were they excellent at waving giant palm leaves, but they were also very good about ooing and ahhing at their emperor’s newfound wisdom.
Listening to Rouvin almost made Helios forget the fact that his life-long dream had been crushed, and he was stuck with a career as a human end table. Day in and day out, his mind was molded–one day his thoughts seemed to spiral, and the next they were steady with three sturdy sides. Each day, he felt more at peace with his lot in life.
Then, one day, Rouvin decided to bring up his theories on slave nature. A large portion of the human population, Rouvin explained, was not capable of reason and therefore not capable of philosophy. These poor souls could not survive in the wild on their own and, therefore must be given some kind of menial work to keep them occupied.
This group of people included all women and most men.
Now you might think that Helios would have been highly offended by this teaching, considering he was a slave, but after giving up everything to chase an impossible dream, Helios thought maybe Rouvin was right.
Afterall, he really hadn’t made the best decisions in life. Maybe it was good that he lived under the thumb of the wise few.
As Helios mulled over all these things, Lysander came to a sudden stop.
“Do you hear that?” he said.
Helios listened. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a song—a beautiful, haunting melody.
“There!” Lysander said, pointing to a speck of movement beside the waters ahead.
Then, without another word, the emperor and his party began jogging toward the sound.
Of course, Helios, Rouvin, and the fan girls trotted along behind.
All the while that lovely haunting sound grew louder, filling the air all around them. It seemed to pull at their very souls until the source of the music came into view.
Standing in the surf were a dozen singing maidens, each with the radiance of a goddess. Their hair danced around them in the breeze, but never blocked their bright eyes and glowing smiles.
They would have been completely unclad, but luckily, the ocean (in an attempt to keep this story’s rating under PG-13) had washed seaweed and shells onto them in just such a way as to provide the minimum necessary coverage.
They giggled as Lysander gaped at them, waving at him and tossing their hair.
There was a time when Helios might have reacted similarly, but shortly after becoming a slave, he lost all interest in women. The only thing he felt when he looked at them was annoyance that they were violating the Lysandrian decency code.
He hoped the emperor would issue a fine, but somehow doubted it.
“Rouvin,” Lysander said. “Let us take a break from our lesson and enjoy this pleasant company for a while.”
Rouvin, who seemed completely unfazed by the apparition, objected. “But, Your Greatness, I was just getting to Mastery of the Passions.”
“Mastery of the passions can wait,” the emperor rebuked, starting toward the women.
Then, Helios heard something that shook him—the sound of his own voice begging his master to wait. What was he doing? He wasn’t supposed to speak to the emperor… Yet, something about this entire situation felt off to him.
The emperor swung back toward Helios, brows raised in surprise.
Helios knelt in the sand.
“Forgive me, Your Greatness,” Helios pleaded. “But I can not stand by and say nothing while you rush into a trap.”
“A trap?” scoffed the emperor.
“Who are these women?” Helios said. “That would dare violate Lysandrian decency codes before the very man who signed them into law?”
“Those codes don’t apply to women who look like them,” Lysander pointed out.
“I think Helios has a point,” Dafni mumbled timidly, wringing her palm branch in her hands. “Isn’t it forbidden to walk on this beach without your leave? What makes these women so bold?”
“Am I losing the respect of all my slaves now?” Lysander gasped.
“We just fear for your safety, Your Greatness,” Emilia added. “We couldn’t bear it if you fell prey to sirens.”
“Sirens!” Lysander laughed. “Our philosopher was right, you all really are incapable of reason!”
With that, he turned and ran toward the open arms of the singing maidens, his entourage of male friends in tow.
“Sirens,” Rouvins grumbled under his breath. “How silly. Sirens appeal to the deepest desires of men’s hearts. If this were a siren’s trap, they would be offering us knowledge, not…” he glanced at the giggling, waving women, and rolled his eyes. “Base pleasures.”
“Not all men have such deep desires,” Emilia pointed out. “And if one method works…” She gestured toward the crowd of men charging toward certain doom. “Why complicate it?”
Rouvin scowled, pulled a scroll from his satchel, and took a seat on a piece of driftwood.
“So I guess we’ll just… wait here,” Helios shrugged.
“Sssh!” Rouvin hissed, shooting him a scowl.
Helios rolled his eyes. For the first time in his life, he wondered if it really would be all that bad for something to happen to his emperor. Maybe a different emperor would give him the role of steward? One could certainly dream.
Just then, a frantic, violent splashing and the screams of men snapped him from his thoughts. Looking toward the emperor, he saw that the sea goddesses had suddenly sprouted fangs, fins, and spiky scales. They were swarming all over Lysander’s party, trying to pull the struggling men beneath the crimson water.
“Well,” Helios stated. “We did warn him.”
“Told you they were sirens,” Emilia commented.
“Do something!” Rouvin cried, leaping to his feet.
Helios had no idea what they could do. There wouldn’t be much left of the emperor’s party by the time they made it across the beach, and then they would just be giving themselves over for desert.
“Look!” Rouvin cried, pointing toward the sand beside the swarm. The slumped form of the emperor was dragging himself ashore, thus far unnoticed by the monsters. As the sirens feasted on the corpses of his friends, Lysander managed to make it into a hollow between a boulder and a pile of driftwood unnoticed.
Helios pressed his lips together thoughtfully. Perhaps there was hope for his master afterall?
Maybe, if they could distract the sirens long enough, Lysander could escape onto higher ground. Helios furrowed his brow as he observed the situation, weighing his options. Should he even bother saving the emperor?
“Look!” Rouvin whispered. “He made it! You must be able to do something!”
Then something occurred to Helios… Maybe if he rescued the emperor, he would be rewarded with the one thing he wanted more than anything in the world. If he could prove to Lysander that he was capable enough to get him out of this situation, surely, he would believe he was capable enough to be chief steward.
“I have an idea,” Helios smiled.
Never once since the birth of the human species has a man ever sung of the beauty of a woman’s eyebrows. The curve of her face or her lips, certainly. But the gentle arch of her perfectly sculpted brows? No.
Men neither notice nor discuss female eyebrows. Women, on the other hand, spend an inordinate amount of time fixated on the eyebrows of other women. In female society, the shape of the brow can be the difference between being accepted into the pack and being shunned.
The only reason Helios was aware of this particular dynamic was that the circumstances of his slavery meant that every woman in the household felt safe venting their grievances to him.
He was neither subject to female social rules nor was he ever interested in anything more than friendship with them. To women, Helios was the Platonic friend—that is, the ideal friend of which all other friends are mere shadows.
This experience gave Helios the knowledge he needed to formulate a rescue plan.
While the sirens were still busy plucking the last bits of flesh from the bones of Lysander’s friends, Emilia and Dafni positioned themselves to be just barely within earshot of the Sirens. Helios noticed one with larger fins and golden seashells who seemed to be the leader of the swarm, and instructed Emilia and Dafni to make her the subject of their conversation.
“Wow, they are so beautiful,” Dafni whispered to Emilia.
“Gorgeous,” Emilia whispered back. “I’m willing to bet those noblemen regret nothing.”
As they spoke, Helios was watching from a crevasse in the seawall, from which he could see the sirens, the fan girls, and Lysander’s hiding place.
Rouvin was cowering farther back in the cressave, rearranging the scrolls in his satchel and mumbling about how ridiculous the whole situation was.
Helios noticed the alpha siren’s webbed, fin-like ears perk up at the sound of Emilia’s compliment. She grinned as she picked her teeth with a dead nobleman’s brooch pin.
“How did they get their hair like that!” Dafni gasped. “Perfect!”
“I know!” Emilia agreed.
The alpha siren beamed.
“I just don’t see why…” Emilia continued.
“Why what?” Dafni asked.
The lead siren leaned forward to listen, frowning slightly.
Emilia looked back and forth and lowered her voice. “You see the one at the front? With the golden seashells?”
The alpha siren glanced down at her golden seashells.
“Yes,” Dafni answered, glancing at the alpha siren.
“Why on earth did she feel the need to use that much color on her eyebrows!” Emilia hissed.
The alpha siren’s jaw dropped.
Dafni broke into a broad grin. “Oh my gods! I was just thinking the exact same thing. Like, she did not need to try that hard.”
“Agreed,” Emilia nodded, not even bothering to lower her voice this time. “Like all the others, just used an aquamarine tint, you know? Just a tiny pop of color. And then.” She gestured toward the alpha. “That witch looks like she just smeared on the turquoise with her thumbs!”
Dafni giggled.
Now the other sirens were peeking out of the surf, glancing up at their leader, and murmuring among themselves.
“Also, also!” Emilia added excitedly. “When they were all singing, did you hear how blue-brows there was just belting out every single note?”
“It’s like she was screaming ‘desperate’,” Dafni agreed.
Emilia laughed. Dafni laughed. And then all the sirens, save their leader, burst out laughing too.
“Those brows do kind of make you look like a man,” one of the sirens snarled.
“And she sings like one, too!” another leered.
“Leave me alone!” the alpha siren howled.
“Sure,” one of the others laughed. “With brows like that, you don’t need us!”
Then, in a flurry of laughter and splashing, the sirens disappeared into the sea, leaving their leader to sob alone on the shoreline.
Emilia and Dafni walked away arm in arm, chatting and laughing as if they hadn’t just completely destroyed the self-confidence of a legendary sea monster.
Helios took this as his signal to venture from his hiding place and slowly approach the weeping creature.
“Women can be so cruel, can’t they?” he said softly.
When the siren raised her face from her hands, she saw him staring down at her with a gentle, sympathetic expression.
“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Helios coughed. “And I know it doesn’t mean much coming from a stranger… but I think turquoise suits you.”
“Really?” the siren smiled through her tears and ran a webbed finger over one of her brows. “You don’t think it’s too loud?”
Now, if she had been looking past Helios, she might have noticed an old man emerge from the sea cliff and gesture desperately to a pile of driftwood. Fortunately, she was too busy awaiting Helios’ answer to notice anything else.
Helios regarded her. Her makeup was a little loud, if he was being honest.
“What I think doesn’t matter,” he smiled. “You had the confidence to express yourself. You lured a dozen noblemen to their deaths. And that, my dear, is beautiful.”
At this point, a wet and miserable-looking Lysander was scurrying up the sea cliff toward Rouvin, but the siren was too busy smiling into Helios’ kind face to notice.
“What’s your name?” she sniffed.
“Helios,” Helios answered.
“Well, Helios,” she sighed. “You’re a great friend.”
She gave him a platonic hug with lots of back pats. Then, a distant whistle alerted Helios to the safety of his master. It was time to retreat before this siren decided she needed a meal more than a friend.
He broke from her and took a step backward.
“Well, if you ever need someone to talk to,” he gestured toward the palace on the cliff above. “You know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Helios,” she smiled through her tears.
Helios slowly backed away until he saw his new friend dive into the surf. Then he let out a relieved breath and fled back toward the palace to meet his master.
Lysander couldn’t believe it when Helios explained how they planned and executed his rescue.
“Cupbearer,” Lysander declared, placing a firm hand on his slave’s shoulder. “… what was your name again?”
“Helios, Your Greatness,” Helio said.
“Helios,” Lysander stated. “Because, even while being incapable of reason, you managed to save my life… I will grant you anything your heart desires.”
And so Helios finally achieved his lifelong dream of becoming the emperor’s steward. Not only that, he was given power and wealth and fame and his own apartment in the palace. Lysander even told him he could take Dafni for a wife.
Helios accepted, but only because he was secretly scared of the dark and liked the idea of having a roommate.
Thus, he lived his dream for a few wonderful years before Lysander died in a tragic and mysterious accident, and the empire crumbled and the city caught on fire, but all of that nonsense is documented in another tale.
Philothea stood looking over an open grassy field. On the far side, she saw a quaint little thatched-roof cottage with a pillar of smoke billowing up from the chimney. It was a beautiful, comforting sight. She could almost smell a hot stew cooking on that fire. Her stomach rumbled; she started sprinting forward.
“Don’t go in the lake,” Pouli warned, from his perch on her right shoulder.
Philothea paused and looked around the sprawling field.
“What lake?” she asked.
Pouli shot off her shoulder and flew in a loop over the open space.
“This lake!” he cried, then returning to his perch, added. “Don’t run into the lake!”
“There’s nothing there,” Zoe observed from her place on Philothea’s left shoulder. “That bird is demented.”
“There is a huge, deep lake!” Pouli objected, “With very rude geese, see them?”
Philothea frowned. “I don’t see anything, just grass.”
“Pouli is delusional,” Zoe complained. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t know,” Philothea answered. “Pouli’s smarter than you give him credit for, maybe…”
“His brain is the size of a raisin,” Zoe snapped. “He’s just trying to keep us away from the house because he doesn’t like fae.”
“No!” Pouli squawked. “There’s a lake! Don’t fall in! Don’t makealake mistake!” He puffed himself up proudly when he rhymed.
For a moment, the birds continued arguing. Pouli insisted there was a lake in to Philothea’s right ear, and Zoe chirped into her left about how she should ignore him and proceed. This, combined with Philothea’s ravenous hunger, did nothing to improve her mood.
A small part of Philothea wondered if Pouli was right. She felt a tingling, similar to the one she felt as the emperor’s men closed in, but it was vague and distant and… warmer somehow.
Philothea had no idea how to make sense of all the feelings she’d started to experience after putting on the seal for the first time. And with her rumbling stomach and the sounds of Pouli and Zoe arguing in each of her ears, the odd feeling was swallowed up.
“I’M GOING!” Philothea shouted and shot forward over the field. The moment she started running, she noticed a sound that made her stomach flop–the honking and hissing of geese.
Suddenly, she felt herself plunging into deep, icy water. A tiny cry escaped before she was sucked below the surface by some invisible force. Her hands paddled and grasped as she tried to swim upward toward the sparkling surface, but to no avail.
The current sucked her deeper and deeper, then, just when she thought her lungs would burst, she plunged out and landed hard on her back.
For a moment, Philothea was silent as she tried to figure out what happened. She was lying in an underground chamber with a ceiling made of… Was she going crazy? The ceiling was made of water. She had fallen through the lake and somehow ended up in a little air bubble.
She struggled to sit up, while stunned, gasping, and shaking. How was this possible? Was she hurt? A quick self-examination didn’t turn up any injuries. More remarkable was the fact that she was completely dry.
How?
Philothea noticed two balls of feathers lying on either side of her. “Zoe!” she cried, picking the first one up in her hand. The bird didn’t move. “Zoe?” Philothea asked, poking the bird with her finger.
The head shot up and looked around.
“Lake mistake!” cried the bird. “You fell prey to tricky fae!”
“Pouli,” Philothea breathed. To her relief, the second fluffball was also starting to revive. Zoe fluttered to her feet.
“What just happened?” Zoe asked.
“You trespassed, that’s what.” It was the cold female voice that seemed to ooze irritability.
Philothea jumped when she noticed a figure standing over her like she had materialized out of thin air. The newcomer took a step forward into the bluish light of the underwater chamber.
She was the most beautiful person Philothea had ever seen. Her skin was a deep, warm brown, her sullen eyes a forest green. A thick black braid curled around her neck and spilled over one shoulder. She dressed in furs and leather like a huntsman but did not carry a bow. Perched upon her shoulder was a raven. Next to Pouli and Zoe, the bird looked enormous.
Where had this woman come from? It seemed like she had just appeared in the strange little earthen chamber. There were no entrances aside from the water above.
“You naughty thing!” Pouli screeched at the intruder. “Go back in your cage!”
He would have shot forward and tried attacking the woman, but Philothea had instinctively closed her hand around him at the woman’s appearance. She caught Zoe in her other hand to prevent her from making a futile attack.
The raven stretched its neck out and regarded Pouli. “You are a naughty bird. This is Raven’s lake.”
The woman stroked the raven’s feathers. “That’s right, this is my lake and these three are dirty thieves, aren’t they?”
“Dirty thieves,” the raven agreed.
“We aren’t,” Philothea defended. “I’m sorry.”
“What shall we do with them, Fae?” the woman asked the bird.
“Wait a moment, did you say Fae?” Zoe observed. “Is that raven’s name Fae?”
The raven let out a deep and hearty laugh, then said, “turn them to dust, feed them to the wolves, kill them, dirty thieves.” The raven laughed again. “Raven must kill the dirty thieves before they steal again, ho, ho, ho!”
“Ho, ho, ho,” Pouli mimicked. “Ho, ho, ho, you naughty bird! You will get no grapes!”
“Hold on,” Zoe continued. “Am I misunderstanding this, or is your name Raven?” She was looking at the woman.
“Yes, I am Raven,” the woman confirmed. “And this is Fae.”
“So the fae’s name is Raven and the raven’s name is Fae?” Zoe asked.
“It doesn’t really matter,” Raven shrugged. “Because I am going to kill you. Well, at least the girl. I might spare you birds. I like birds.”
“I’m sorry,” Philothea exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to trespass. I was just coming to see you–”
“That’s a first,” Raven remarked. “Most people try to avoid me.”
The next thing Philothea said was probably stupid given the circumstances.
“Why?”
A tiny hint of a smile touched Raven’s lips.
“Because people don’t like me,” she answered. “And the feeling is mutual.”
“You must like someone,” Philothea objected.
“You less and less,” Raven answered. “You have thirty seconds to convince me not to kill you.”
Philothea’s mind suddenly went completely blank. There are plenty of reasons not to kill someone, decency being the most obvious. However, in that moment, Philothea forgot them all. She just sort of stared at Raven blankly and then burst out laughing.
Pouli, of course, started laughing with her, imitating her voice perfectly. That made Philothea laugh even harder.
It was a strange thing to do in the face of imminent death but honestly, her situation was ridiculous. She was sitting slumped in the dirt clutching a squirming starling in each hand.
“Why are you laughing?” Raven snapped.
“Because,” Philothea choked. “I don’t want to die.”
The woman furrowed her brow.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” the fae woman continued. “Nothing about this situation warrants laughing.”
“I know!” Philothea squealed. She then scrunched up in an unsuccessful attempt to stop a second wave of hysteria.
Raven was taken completely off guard, she just stared at the giggling mess of a girl before her, trying to decide what to do next.
Finally, she sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Come on,” she said.
“Come…where…” Philothea managed. Suddenly, the strange subterranean room began to melt away, and Philothea found herself inside a little cottage. A warm fire burned in the hearth, and Philothea could smell something wonderful cooking.
“You didn’t kill us,” Zoe stated.
“Not yet,” Raven answered. “I might after dinner, I don’t know.”
The wood grew thicker, and the canopy filtered the sunlight, giving the forest an eerie green look. They had been traveling for three full days now, trying to ration the little stale bread they had left. Philothea kept hoping that they would come to a farm or a town or someplace where they could get more supplies.
Each time they stopped to rest, Zoe asked Philothea to turn her back into a human, and each time Philothea’s attempts were unsuccessful. Philothea was actually glad she couldn’t restore Zoe. She wanted to turn her back eventually, but not until they were safe. She wouldn’t have even tried if it weren’t for Zoe’s insistence.
On the fourth morning, Philothea woke beneath the shade of a foreboding oak tree. She hadn’t made a fire, for fear of attracting Zeno’s men. She simply curled up into a tight ball and wrapped herself in her cloak. Zoe and Pouli slept in the treetop to avoid the predators that prowled the ground at night. What finally pulled her from her slumber was a chorus of bird song.
Zoe’s contributions to this were irritated screeches and the words, “Be quiet, Pouli! It’s too early for this! Must you do this every morning? Ugh!”
Even if she had managed to silence Pouli, it wouldn’t have stopped the thousands of other birds from participating. The hard truth was that sleeping in the forest meant playing by the rules of its inhabitants.
Philothea sat up and stretched before contributing to the routine by asking her daily question.
“How much farther, Pouli?”
It wasn’t a lack of patience that made her ask this every day (well, it was a little). Mostly, it was because the answer Pouli always gave was vague, and she was hoping that eventually he would provide more detail.
But this morning, like all previous, he answered with a song:
Make your way through forest dark,
And over mountain high,
A wall of wooded hills will mark,
The place where home is nigh.
When he’d finished, he puffed himself up proudly and said, “I wrote that song myself!”
“Do you have to answer every question with a song?” Zoe grumbled. “Couldn’t you just say, continue east through the forest and over the mountains until you see a range of wooded hills?”
“You are a bird,” Pouli pointed out. “Do you not like to sing?”
“I don’t sing,” Zoe answered dryly. “As a human or a bird.”
It was true. The Keepers expected all the girls to at least attempt to sing during worship, but Zoe would just half-heartedly mouth the words to appease them.
She told the other girls it was because she was tone-deaf. That might have been true, but knowing Zoe, it could have just been that she wasn’t interested in temple music.
“Breakfast!” Pouli suddenly exclaimed, fluttering over to a tree stump. A trail of ants was moving up the side and across the top.
Pouli happily devoured them. Zoe fluttered onto the edge of Philothea’s basket and began to peck away at the last of the bread.
Philothea was starving. She watched Zoe for a minute and then said, “Um, Zoe…”
“Yes?” Zoe asked, as she tore away at the loaf.
“Well…” Philothea began with a nervous giggle. “We really don’t have a lot of food left and… since you’re a bird, maybe…you could…”
Philothea stopped herself. There was no way what she was about to suggest would get a good reaction.
Zoe seemed to know what Philothea was about to say. Her head flew backward like a viper preparing to strike, and her feathers stood on end.
“Eat the ants!” Pouli screeched happily. Then, just to improve Zoe’s mood, he sang,
Pouli does a merry dance,
Every time he eats the ants!
If you don’t eat ants, you should,
They are crunchy, juicy, good!
“Nevermind,” Philothea mumbled.
“That’s what I thought,” Zoe snapped. She stabbed the bread with her beak.
Philothea took what was left of it. As she nibbled away at the hopeless morsel, she prayed,
Please help us find more rations soon.
When they left a short while later, the last of the bread was gone, and Philothea was still starving. She sent Pouli flying ahead to see if he could find some sign of civilization. Zoe also fluttered up above the canopy to have a look around, but did not stray too far from her companion.
The farther they went, the hungrier they became. Philothea repeated her prayer over and over in her heart.
They stopped for a brief rest in the afternoon, and Philothea asked Zoe to fly up into the treetops and try to look for eggs.
“I will betray my fellow birds with pleasure!” Zoe exclaimed, fluttering away.
Her fellow birds, however, did not take kindly to this, and Zoe was forced to flee, leaving their nests unrobbed.
Though Zoe gave her no sign at all, Philothea guessed that the whole operation upset her.
“Even if you had managed to roll an egg out,” Philothea consoled. “It probably would have shattered when it hit the ground anyway. I couldn’t have done much with that.”
“You know what I miss most about being a human?” Zoe remarked. “Having thumbs.”
The two sat together in silent misery for a while until Pouli returned.
Oh, please may Pouli have found something, Philothea begged.
“Nothing!” he declared cheerily. “You must both eat ants. This is good. You will love them!”
“Nothing?” Philothea pressed. “Not even an old abandoned shack?”
“The only house was a fae house,” Pouli answered. “You must eat ants. They are good!”
Philothea sat bolt upright. “A fae house? Where?”
Zoe popped her head up and regarded Pouli with excitement.
“Northeast,” Pouli answered. “Past a big lake with geese.” His head feathers puffed up angrily. “Very rude geese.” He added a hissing sound.
Philothea’s heart pounded. This was it—the answer to her prayer!
She stood and collected her basket. “Take me there, Pouli.”
“No! No! No! No! It’s bad! Very bad!” Pouli protested.
“What’s so bad about it?” Zoe asked. “Do you know the fae who lives there?”
“Fae are bad! So bad! So sneaky and tricky!” Then he sang, “You will surely rue the day that you dare to trust a fae!”
“But isn’t my mother a fae?” Philothea protested. “Aren’t I half-fae?”
“Kiki is so good. She is a nice fae, a sweet fae. She is sneaky, but good and beautiful. She has a pretty hat.”
“Let’s just go,” Zoe suggested. If she’d been human, she’d have rolled her eyes. “I’ll fly up and see if I can find northeast!”
“No! No! No! No!” Pouli shrieked. He swooped back and forth in front of Philothea’s path.
Philothea tried to wave him away. “If you don’t want us to go there, you’ve got to give us a better reason than ‘fae are bad’.”
“Bad! Bad! Bad!” Pouli cried, swooping back and forth.
“Do the fae work for Zeno? Is that why?” Philothea tried.
Pouli landed on her head as a way of proving his superior opinion. “Fae work for no one! They are tricky and sneaky and bad!”
Philothea felt a prick of hurt and annoyance. How could Pouli tell her that her mother was a fae and then turn around and say fae were somehow evil? A tear rolled down her cheek. Tears didn’t always mean sadness for Philothea. They were just as likely to indicate anger.
And Philothea was very angry. This house was the answer to her prayer, and here Pouli was spouting all kinds of nonsense about how fae are evil.
“We’re going, Pouli,” she snapped, marching forward.
Pouli started swooping across her path, but he couldn’t do much to stop her, especially when Zoe decided to battle him in midair.
“She’s made up her mind,” Zoe cried. “Leave her alone!”
They looked like a hovering blur of feathers tumbling through the air. It was a brief and ferocious fight full of birdish swearing.
Finally, Pouli broke free and landed on Philothea’s shoulder.
Philothea ran for what seemed like forever, even after she was long out of sight of Zeno’s men. Every time she saw a creek, she would run up the length of it, hoping it would wash away her scent. When she finally dared to rest, she was soaking wet and muddy. She flopped into a patch of soft grass at the base of a tree and sat for a moment, catching her breath.
“You’re going to turn me back now, right?”
Philothea jumped. A little starling had alighted on a bush beside her.
Philothea inhaled deeply. “Oh, yes, sorry, Zoe.”
“But you’re so pretty!” came the voice of another starling from somewhere in the canopy.
Everyone should be a bird,
They are the best to be!
Birdies are so beau-ti-ful,
I’m sure that you agree!
“Nope, I don’t,” Zoe answered. “Now will you turn me back?”
Philothea was still wearing her ring. She held her hand out in front of Zoe.
How had she done it before? She had tried saying words, sort of ordering the magic to happen, but it didn’t work.
“You are human,” Philothea tried, it was futile as she suspected it would be. She continued trying different phrases. “Be human! You’re a girl! You’re no longer a bird!”
With each attempt, Zoe seemed to become more irritable. Her head feathers stood up and she fluttered around in a fury making grumpy screeching sounds. Interestingly enough, Zoe was a lot more expressive as a bird. It suited her in a strange way.
Though Philothea kept trying for Zoe’s sake, her attempts were half-hearted. Odd as it was, she didn’t want to turn Zoe back yet. As long as Zoe was a bird, she could easily escape Zeno. He wouldn’t notice or care about her.
If anything, Philothea wanted to be a bird herself so they could all fly to wherever her parents were. But wish as she might, it did not happen, and try as she might, Zoe did not turn back.
At last, Philothea gave up and sank back down on the grass.
“I’m done, Zoe,” Philothea stated.
“Done?” Zoe screeched. “What do you mean, done? I’m still a bird! This is not okay!” “I’ve used up all my magic for today,” Philothea answered.
“No! No! No! No!” Zoe exclaimed, her feathers standing on end, making her look like a spikey puffer fish.
Philothea pulled the ring off her finger. Her power faded and went dormant, leaving her empty and exhausted.
“If I rest a little and eat something, maybe I can try again tomorrow?” Philothea mumbled, her voice cracking a little.
Zoe landed on Philothea’s wrist and started pecking at the ring in her hand. “Try again! Try again!”
Philothea was so exhausted that the leaf litter looked like a welcome bed. She longed to fall into it face-first and instantly lose consciousness. Yet, here Zoe was screeching and pecking at her.
Yes, Zoe was older, but that did not give her the right to order Philothea around.
Philothea opened her mouth to give Zoe a firm reprimanding but the words caught in her throat, and she released a giggly sigh as tears welled up in her eyes. No, no, no, no, no, why did this always happen? Just once, she wanted to be able to defend herself without laughing or crying like an idiot.
“What–” Philothea started, feeling her voice crack. She took a deep breath. “What are you so upset about?” The tears started flowing, and she hated herself for it. “If Zeno finds me, you can just fly away!”
This was just awful. Why couldn’t she be like Zoe? Why couldn’t she control herself and say what she meant plainly?
Zoe’s feathers had deflated.
“Look, you don’t need to get all worked up,” she answered.
Nothing got Philothea more worked up than people telling her she didn’t need to get worked up. A second wave of tears poured from her eyes.
“We’ll just…” Zoe sighed. “Try again tomorrow, I suppose.”
Philothea curled up on the grass with her back to Zoe. She was feeling too embarrassed and too angry to talk anymore. It was almost dark now. She heard a fluttering and then Zoe’s voice.
“So do I, like, put my head under my wing or what?”
Philothea decided she was talking to Pouli.
“You sit, and fluff, like this,” Pouli explained. “It is the best way to sleep.”
Philothea peeked back over her shoulder. Pouli had retracted his head into the ball of feathers that was the rest of his body so that he looked like a fluffy potato stuck to a tree branch.
Philothea giggled through her tears. She couldn’t understand why Zoe didn’t like Pouli; he was adorable.
“Pouli?” Philothea asked, after a short silence. “Will you sing that song?”
“Pouli’s wings are bea-ti-ful,” Pouli started cheerily.
“No, no,” Philothea interrupted. “I mean, the one you promised you’d sing. The song that made Zeno want to kill me.”
Pouli switched instantly, beginning a more somber tune:
A legend tells of power great, and the prophets sing,
Of a man who will devour, nation, army, and king.
In lands on which his shadow falls, warriors won’t resist.
They leave their posts upon the walls; he enters in their midst.
The people fall down at his feet and try to hide their scorn,
They offer Zeno praises sweet, the greatest of men born!
His enemies long to end him, tear his empire down,
But they stand by in envy grim, for none can steal his crown.
But Zeno conquers all in vain; his power will soon end,
For a girl will crush his reign, and his wrongs amend.
A precious little child will destroy this ruler cruel,
The power that she will employ will prove Zeno a fool.
Philothea was quiet for a long moment, trying to understand. She had so many questions: who wrote the song, and why. Was it a prophecy? She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Zoe interrupted:
“So Philothea is going to kill Zeno and take over the world?” She looked at Philothea and added. “Remember us little people, when you’re empress supreme.”
Philothea glared at her. “I’m not killing anyone!” She turned her attention back to Pouli. “Pouli, where did you hear that song?”
“My cage in Katina’s court!” He fluffed with pride at his alliteration, then started spouting other C and K words in a nonsensical manner.
“Am I the child in that song?” Philothea demanded. “Is that why Zeno wants to kill me?”
“Zeno is bad. He is so bad! He is a naughty thing,” Pouli explained helpfully. “Zeno must go back in his cage and go to sleep.”
“This bird is useless,” Zoe grumbled, ruffling her feathers as she tried to get comfortable on her branch.
“He is not,” Philothea answered. “He just saved my life. I think he’s a good boy.”
Pouli fluffed his feathers proudly. “I am a good boy!” he agreed. “Where is my grape?”
“At Katina’s house,” Philothea said. “Tomorrow, you’ll take us to get it.”
I’m writing this from my phone. Due to Internet and power outages caused by the winter storm in North Carolina, I am unable to prep the next chapter of The Laughing Empress for tomorrow.
Keeper Ruth had always taught her students to treat creatures with the utmost respect and care. But when Pouli burst into song an hour before sunrise, Zoe forgot her lessons and caught him inside the bread basket.
Unfortunately, this didn’t do much to silence him. Zoe tried to curl back up on the cave floor but couldn’t ignore his rageful little screeches.
“Do you think maybe if you use that seal, you can magic us to wherever your parents are?” She mumbled from somewhere beneath her cloak.
Philothea had long since given up on sleep and was now sitting with her back to the rock wall, watching Pouli’s yellow beak shoot in and out through the holes in the wicker. She knew the little bird had awakened some deeply unpleasant emotions in her friend. Zoe hated the idea of traveling anywhere with him.
Philothea wrung her hands. She didn’t even really know how she had restored Pouli.
“I don’t know,” she answered. She looked back at the little basket where Pouli was now shouting angry exclamations like, “Away with you, naughty thing!” and “No biting!” and “Bad bird! No grapes!”
“I’m going to let him out,” Philothea stated.
“Can you not?” Zoe requested.
“Look, we’re already awake, and he’s only doing what birds do naturally,” Philothea answered. “It’s not his fault, he’s a bird.”
“Actually, it kind of is,” Zoe pointed out. “He’s the one who insisted you turn him back.”
Philothea glared at her.
“Pouli?” Philothea asked sweetly, scooching toward his prison. “I’ll let you out on one condition.”
“Naughty girl! Away with you!” Pouli replied. “Go back in your cage, you naughty thing!”
“Pouli, if you sing the song that made Zeno hate me, you can come out.”
Pouli went silent for a long moment. Zoe peered out from her cloak cocoon, trying to see what miracle had silenced her tormentor.
Philothea, interpreting the silence as a “yes”, removed the basket. Pouli shot out of the cave like a dart.
“And… he’s gone again…” Zoe stated. She grumbled something else under her breath, rubbed her eye with the base of her wrist, and sat up.
Philothea figured he would be back once he’d flown off all his rage. She suggested that they pack the rest of the bread and look around Pouli’s collection of items to see if they could find anything else that might be useful.
They had with them only what they were wearing when they fled the temple. Simple, off-white ankle-length dresses, their cloaks, and the little multipurpose knives they always carried on their belts.
Unfortunately, Pouli’s belongings were hardly practical. It seemed like he had two hobbies: collecting shiny items and destroying things.
His bed, if you could call it a bed, was made up of threadbare blanket scraps that had been ripped and then tangled together in a circular, nestlike fashion.
Philothea was delighted when she found a rope, but dismayed to discover that it was frayed from one end to the exact middle as if Pouli had been pulling the strands apart individually. (She cut off the good half.) There were a number of wicker baskets which had also been destroyed strand by strand. The only one in good condition was the one that had been holding the bread.
Philothea used the rope to extend the handles so she could wear it over her shoulder like a satchel. It was clumsy, but serviceable. They found a couple of shiny bottles which they put into the basket, along with the leftover bread. Then they started searching for any lightweight items they might be able to sell if they came to a village. There wasn’t much on this front-just a trowel and a few coins.
As they continued their search, Philothea suddenly became aware of a strange feeling–it was like a thousand icy needles pricking her all over. And something else… a furious power, swirling and burning within a distant heart. Someone was approaching, and that someone was a force to be reckoned with.
Philothea scrunched her brow, wondering how she knew that and where these feelings were coming from.
“You alright?” Zoe asked.
“It’s…” A nervous laugh caught in Philothea’s throat, making her choke on her words. “I think we should go.”
“Alright, let’s just try and see what else we can find first,” Zoe started.
“We need to go now,” Philothea giggled.
Zoe stared at her and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could question Philothea, Pouli shot back into the cave and exclaimed:
“Zeno is coming! Got to hide the baby! Got to save the princess!”
“You need to be quiet, is what you need,” Zoe stated.
“We have to go,” Philothea insisted.
As the words escaped her, they both heard the sound of voices moving through the trees in the distance.
The girls glanced at each other.
Zoe nodded. “Yes, let’s.”
Zoe and Philothea slipped down the hillside, trying to stay hidden behind the trees and brambles. They heard the voices of men in the distance, the sound of horses whinnying and snorting, and worst of all, the barking of hunting dogs.
“East! East! East!” Pouli chirped as he flew over their heads. “Zeno is coming!”
The girls moved as fast as they could without drawing attention to themselves. Yet, with every step forward they took, it seemed the sounds of Zeno’s men came closer. Then all at once, the dogs went into a barking frenzy. Philothea heard their padded paws galloping across the underbrush.
“They’ve got our scent,” she squeaked.
“Just keep moving,” Zoe whispered.
Philothea looked over her shoulder. Now she could see one of the great brown and black hounds trotting after them in the distance. He would be upon them any moment.
“Zoe,” she whispered. “I have an idea.”
Zoe glanced sideways at her as they rushed through the brambles.
“I am going to turn us into birds.”
Zoe raised an eyebrow.
“If Pouli can become a man, we can become birds, right? Then we could fly to my parents.”
“That might be the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life,” Zoe replied.
“It’s our only chance,” Philothea begged, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the barking.
“No, it isn’t,” Zoe argued. “Stop talking, you’ll attract their attention.”
They continued scurrying through the brush, the thorns and twigs scratching at their ankles. Meanwhile, the barking and the padding of paws grew ever closer. And that strange feeling, that icy tingling that alerted Philothea to the presence of Zeno’s magic, increased, throbbing through her.
Philothea did not have time to argue, as they ran, she pulled the ring from her pocket and slipped it on her finger. Her magic awakened with a burst of energy, causing her to stumble forward into the stinging brush. Shaking, she struggled to her feet and looked around wildly, trying to orient herself to the avalanche of ability the seal had unlocked.
She felt like she could do anything as easily as moving a finger, and that terrified her. She breathed deeply and focused on the thing she wanted to do–turn herself and Zoe into birds.
Zoe glanced over at her and, noticing the ring, said, “What are you doing?”
“We are birds,” Philothea whispered.
Nothing happened.
“No, stop that!” Zoe hissed.
But Philothea ignored her, she could see the rest of the pack closing in on them.
“Birds, birds, birds,” she whispered, hopefully. Nothing happened.
A great hound leap out from the brambles blocking their path. Philothea shrieked in alarm. She turned from the great beast and saw one of his fellows just behind her. They were surrounded.
The pack circled them, barking happily.
Philothea’s heart pounded. The dogs would hold them until their masters caught up. Her only chance at getting past them was getting the ring to work and she had no idea how to do it.
She felt tears on her cheeks. She hoped that this Zeno would at least let Zoe go. She thought of Keeper Ruth and Keeper Eva—how they had tried to protect her. She didn’t want anyone hurt on her account.
She heard a man’s voice in the distance cry, “Over there! The dogs have them!”
They were following the sound of the barking…
She wished to the depths of her being that at least Zoe could escape. That at least Zoe could sprout wings and fly away. And with that deep and honest longing came a loud “poof.”
Philothea looked down at herself. Was she a bird? As the smoke cleared, she could see that she was still completely herself.
“Zoe?” she whispered.
“I’ll kill you for this!”
The voice was like Zoe’s but… distorted, gravely. Philothea looked over her shoulder and saw a little starling standing where Zoe had been a moment ago.
“Pouli?”
“NO!” screeched the bird. “I’m Zoe!”
“I did it!” Philothea cried, her heart leaping. “You can escape now, Zoe!”
All of Zoe’s feathers stuck up so that she looked more like an irate hedgehog than a bird.
“What?” she screeched. “Escape? Are you serious? If you die, I’ll be stuck in bird form forever!”
Philothea ducked down. The dogs were still circling her, barking to draw their masters in.
Zeno’s company appeared on a distant hill, though the emperor himself, wasn’t visible. As Philothea utterly despaired, she heard a scream. She jumped. Not only because it was a scream, but because it was her scream and immediately followed by her own voice crying out in the distance, “Look! They’re coming! Help!”
Zoe’s voice replied, “Be quiet you naughty thing! Zeno will hear you!”
Of course, it couldn’t have been Zoe because Zoe was next to her in bird form.
Philothea’s heart leapt. It was Pouli! Clever little Pouli, leading their enemies away. Philothea decided that as soon as she was returned to her parents, she was going to make sure that he got a whole vineyard of grapes.
“There!” one of the warriors cried, pointing in the direction of the noise. “It was definitely coming from there!”
One of the men whistled and the dogs fled back to the hunting party, giving a few suspicious growls at Philothea and Zoe before they finally left them alone.
The poof filled the whole cave with white smoke and when it cleared Pouli the man was nowhere to be seen. Standing in his place was a little speckled starling. The bird hopped around for a moment, then let out a delighted little chirp and flew out of the cave.
Philothea and Zoe watched him go and remained paralyzed in shocked silence before Philothea cried, “Wait! Pouli! We need you!”
A moment later, the little bird shot back into the cave and alighted on the handle of one of the broken pots.
“I am a bird,” he said, twirling his wings.
Philothea jumped when she heard him speak. It wasn’t something she expected a starling to be able to do.
“I am a good bird! A pretty bird!” he continued complimenting himself. He did not open and close his beak when he spoke, instead he shaped the words with his throat. The feathers on his neck puffed out as he delivered each word.
“Hmmm…” Zoe began as she observed him. “I guess he really was a bird…”
Philothea pulled the seal off her finger. The power it unlocked faded but did not disappear completely, it seemed to linger in some distant corner of her being, ready to re-emerge when she put the ring back on.
She sank to her knees feeling drained and empty.
“Are you alright?” Zoe asked.
To Philothea’s horror, she felt tears on her cheeks. She wasn’t sad about anything in particular. She was just exhausted and overwhelmed. What had she just done? How had she done it?
“Pouli?” she asked. “What just happened?”
“You made me a bird,” Pouli explained.
Philothea looked at the ring in her palm, then she wiped the tears off her cheeks with the opposite hand. “Zoe, put it on!” she said, thrusting the seal toward her.
“Sure, why not?” Zoe shrugged. She tried it, waited a moment, and then removed it and handed it back to Philothea. “Nope, I’m not magic. I guess that’s a you thing.”
Philothea furrowed her brow as she pondered this mystery.
“Zoe? Can we sleep here tonight?” she asked. “Maybe we can… make a plan and try to find out more from Pouli?”
A few moments later, the girls were sitting comfortably eating the bread from the basket in the corner. It was dry, stale, and crumbling everywhere but after walking for miles with nothing but blackberries to sustain them it was divine.
Pouli perched on Zoe’s wrist, stealing bits of her loaf as she put it to her mouth.
“Stop! Stop!” she ordered him, holding up a warning finger. “There’s a whole other loaf in the basket.”
“Mine!” Pouli replied as his little beak shot in and out of the loaf. “Yours is mine! Yours is good!”
“You can have mine, Pouli,” Philothea offered.
The little bird looked at Philothea’s loaf in disgust. “Yours is bad.”
“No it isn’t,” she answered.
But try as she might, she was not able to convince the cynical bird that both loaves were identical. He wanted Zoe’s and that was that.
“If we end up starving in the wilderness, this bird will be the first to go,” Zoe whispered. “I’ll cook him like a chicken.”
Pouli must have heard her because all of his feathers stood on end and his head flew backward into striking position. “You are a naughty bird. You must go back in your cage!”
“Pouli,” Philothea interrupted. “Tomorrow you will take us to Kiki and she will give you fresh bread and grapes too but only if you leave Zoe alone.”
Pouli’s feathers deflated and he started to whistle happily.
“Pouli is a handsome bird, handsome, sweet and keen!
With the dawn, this bird will lead the princess to the queen!”
“Does he really have to sing everything?” Zoe grumbled.
“Shush!” Philothea interrupted. “You’re making him angry.”
“It doesn’t seem that difficult,” Zoe pointed out.
“That’s a beautiful song, Pouli,” Philothea smiled.
Pouli puffed up proudly. “That’s my song that I made.”
“It’s wonderful, Pouli!” Philothea praised. “Can you do another one? One about Queen Kiki? And the king, there’s a king isn’t there?”
“He has a beard,” Pouli stated.
“So there is a king? My dad?”
“He has a beautiful hat,” Pouli stated. “And the queen has a beautiful hat and the prince has a beautiful hat. But not you, because you were small and bald.”
“A prince?” Philothea exclaimed. “So I have a brother?”
“He does not have a beard,” Pouli said. “He is bald in the face. His hat has red gems and green gems and…” The bird went into a trance as he continued describing the prince’s crown. Then, he suddenly shook himself out of it. “They are not for Pouli!”
“What is the name of their kingdom?” Philothea asked.
Pouli didn’t seem to understand her question. Instead of answering it, he just started whistling to himself.
“What kind of people live there?” Philothea tried. “Are they all magic?”
“Only Kiki,” Pouli answered. “Kiki is the fae queen!”
“Only Kiki and Zeno! Kiki and Zeno! Kiki and Zeno and the little bald baby!” Pouli sang.
“Zeno? You talked about him before. He tried to kill me when I was little?” Philothea pressed.
“Hide the baby! Zeno is coming!” Pouli repeated, falling back into his unsettling impersonation.
“Why does Emperor Zeno want to kill Philothea?” Zoe asked.
“Because of a song,” Pouli answered.
Philothea and Zoe both sat back expectantly. Pouli fluttered off of Zoe’s wrist and landed on a pot-handle. He yawned and tucked his head under his wing.
“Pouli!” Zoe called.
He jumped then caught himself with an awkward flutter and glared at her. “Go to sleep!”
“But, Pouli, the song!” Philothea insisted.
Pouli yawned again. “What about it?”
“Sing it,” Zoe demanded.
The little bird looked toward the mouth of the cave, then back at them. “It’s dark now. Time to sleep.” He tucked his head under his wing.
Philothea made a frustrated sound that was like a growl, a giggle, and squeal all rolled into one. “Pouli, please tell me why Zeno wants to kill me?”
The bird made a muffled sound from under his wing. Philothea could tell from his tone that he was saying, “Go to sleep.”
Philothea asked over and over again, but the bird ignored her. Finally, she gave up and tried to get comfortable on the stone floor of the little cave. Though Philothea was exhausted to her core, she couldn’t fall asleep. She kept thinking about her family–her father, her mother, and her brother. As she lay there wondering what they were like, she was struck with an awful thought–what if Zeno killed them? What if she were the only survivor? That couldn’t be true otherwise; where was Pouli taking her? Her mind continued fabricating hypotheticals as she struggled to fall asleep.
The very first thing Pouli did when he had come down the hill was snatch the few blackberries out of Philothea’s hand and pop them in his mouth. It became immediately clear to her that pretending the man’s behavior was normal was going to take heroic effort.
“Um, Pouli,” she started. “What did you mean about you being a bird?”
“I am a bird,” Pouli confirmed with a nod. “Kiki made me a man to hide the baby.” Then at once, Pouli started impersonating a woman’s voice. He did so with stunning accuracy, “Zeno is coming, Pouli! Hide the baby! Hide the baby! Find a temple, Pouli! Run Pouli! Run!”
Listening to his impersonation made Philothea’s stomach turn. It was deeply unsettling and not just because it was coming from the mouth of a person who clearly shouldn’t have had such a pretty voice. Pouli dropped his impression before adding, “Then I had arms to hold the baby! I was a man. I hid the baby because I am a good bird. I will get a grape.”
Zoe was rubbing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “So, just to be sure I understand this…” she started. “You were a bird and this ‘Kiki’ turned you into a man so you could hide a baby?”
“I was a little bird,” Pouli stated as if that would explain everything. “Now the baby will make me a bird again! I want to be a bird.”
He looked at Philothea expectantly. She pointed to herself with a nervous smile.
Pouli’s only response was a blink.
“Pouli, was I that baby?” Philothea continued. “I mean, the baby you hid?”
“You will make me a bird,” Pouli replied matter-of-factly. “Your mommy made me a man. You will make me a bird again.”
“How?” Philothea pressed.
“Poof!” Pouli answered.
“I don’t understand,” Philothea exclaimed.
“Listen, Pouli,” Zoe helped. “We are really in a lot of trouble at the moment and Keeper Ruth said that you could help us. So, if can tell us how to find Philothea’s mother–”
“I will get a grape?” Pouli finished hopefully.
“Absolutely!” Philothea chimed in. “You help us and we will give you lots of grapes.”
Pouli seemed pleased with this. He puffed himself up and started singing,
“Pouli’s plumes are beau-ti-ful, a long and regal cape,
Pouli saved the princess and for this he’ll get a grape!”
The man instantly turned his beady eyes back to Zoe.
“Tell us how to find this Kiki,” Zoe ordered.
“I will take you, but you must make me a bird,” he answered, looking back at Philothea.
“I can’t make you a bird, Pouli,” Philothea answered. She hoped he would be flexible with his terms. She had no idea if all this about him being a bird was true, or if Pouli was a mentally unstable human being. If that was the case, was anything he said true? If it wasn’t, why had Keeper Ruth sent them here? She wondered if the little man was, in fact, the real Pouli or some forest spirit claiming to be. How would she ever know?
“You can make me a bird,” Pouli stated. He suddenly started heading back up the hill toward his cave, motioning for them to follow.
Philothea started after him, but Zoe caught her shoulder.
“You aren’t really thinking of following him, are you?”
“Zoe, I think…” Philothea started. “…I think this is actually Pouli.”
“Yeah…no,” Zoe stated. “This crazy bird man isn’t Pouli.”
Philothea grinned nervously. She didn’t want to argue with Zoe, but… something very strong was tugging on her heart.
“He says he left a baby at the temple,” Philothea explained. “Look, I know he’s crazy but this must be the Pouli Keeper Ruth wanted us to find.”
Zoe had no answer, she dropped her gaze to the ground thoughtfully.
“I’m going,” Philothea stated, continuing after Pouli.
“Fine,” Zoe sighed. “Just… be prepared to hit him with something and run, okay?”
She stooped down and picked up a thick tree branch. Philothea did the same, though if the little man did attack, she wasn’t sure she’d have the nerve to hit him. She hated the idea of hurting anyone, even a potentially homicidal bird-man.
As Pouli scrambled up the hillside, he started a song with a different tune. Philothea only caught a tiny snippet of the lyrics,
“A precious little child will destroy this king so cruel,
The power that she will employ will prove Zeno a fool.”
They followed him to his little cave. Littered across the floor was a strange assortment of items—old pots, nails, bent tools, and other broken oddities. Philothea noticed a basket of bread in the corner and felt her stomach rumble.
Pouli stooped down and pulled something out of one of the pots, then took Philothea’s hand and placed it in her palm.
It was a seal—a seal with a gold K right in the center.
“Make me a bird,” Pouli ordered.
Philothea examined the ring. Zoe was also regarding it with slightly narrowed eyes.
Philothea had no doubt that Zoe was thinking the same thing she was–about the Emperor Zeno’s seal, the one that he had tried on their schoolmates.
“Put it on,” Zoe suggested.
Philothea did so and at once let out a yelp for the very moment she slipped it on, a hum of energy burst through her hand and flowed down her arm. The power continued spreading, tingling through her until it touched every part of her body. For the first time in her life, Philothea couldn’t make a sound. She just stood there, frozen, her mouth hanging open in awe as if she was seeing the world for the very first time.
“You okay?” came Zoe’s monotone voice.
Was she? She inhaled sharply and looked down at her feet. She wasn’t levitating which was a relief. Not glowing either as far as she could tell.
“Um… Philothea?” Zoe who was studying her with those intense dark eyes of hers, looking as close to concerned as she ever came to looking anything.
“I’m fine,” Philothea mumbled. “Just…”
How could she explain it to Zoe when she didn’t understand it herself? It was like she had just unlocked a sixth sense, she felt like she wanted to, or needed to do something… but what?
“Make me a bird,” Pouli repeated.
She looked at him. Strange as it was, she felt like she could actually do it. It would be simple, second nature really.
She held up her right hand in front of Pouli and, trembling with power, she exclaimed, “You are a bird!”
Nothing happened.
Pouli looked down at himself and back at her.
“I am not,” he pointed out.
Philothea thought for a minute and then thrust her index finger at him. “Be a bird!” she exclaimed.
“I am not a bird,” Pouli repeated, frowning deeply. “Make me a bird!”
Philothea grinned nervously and chomped down on her lower lip. She furrowed her brow, thrust her finger at him and cried: “Be a bird!”
Pouli looked down again and then started rocking back and forth on his heels in frustration. “Why won’t you make me a bird?” he growled.
“I can, just…” Philothea sputtered. She could, she definitely could, she could feel it all over. It should have been as simple as taking a step.
Again and again and again she tried using different gestures and different words, but nothing seemed to work. Pouli was growing increasingly irritated with each failed attempt and Philothea increasingly flustered.
“Look Pouli,” Zoe said finally. “I don’t think this is going to work.”
He turned his livid little eyes toward her and screeched. “It will work!”
Philothea’s stomach rumbled. Her arms ached and her knees wobbled as her body struggled to process her new-found power. She was restless and tingly all over and after yelling variations of “be a bird” over and over again, she also felt ridiculous.
Despite her exhaustion, it was Pouli she felt sorry for. While his irritated exclamations were wearing on her, she knew they were the result of desperation. She didn’t care if he was actually a bird in human form or just a very confused human. She longed to the very depths of her being, for him to be whatever the Holy Creator intended him to be. And with that deep and honest longing, came a loud“poof”.
Follow the river upstream until you come to a waterfall. Then continue east to the house of Pouli.
“More detail would be helpful,” Zoe remarked as she read Keeper Ruth’s note over Philothea’s shoulder.
Philothea giggled as tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. Zoe handed her a handkerchief. She buried her face in it and let out a muffled sob.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the family they’d left at the temple. As if reading her mind, Zoe stated, “I’m sure they’re alright. Once your secret dad realized they didn’t have you, he took his barbarians and left.”
Philothea hoped she was right (about him leaving the Keepers, not about Emperor Zeno being her secret dad).
They started for the river.
“What was he doing with that ring?” Philothea asked.
“It was a seal,” Zoe stated. “And I think something would have happened if he had placed it on your finger.”
“Something?” Philothea asked. “What kind of something?”
Zoe shrugged. “You’d have started to glow or levitate?”
Philothea imagined herself glowing as she rose off the ground and couldn’t help but laugh through her tears.
“Clearly, he was using it to identify you,” Zoe answered. “Notice how he watched each of the girls for a moment after he had put it on.”
She was right. He was waiting for something to happen. Was the seal magic? Maybe Philothea was magic.
“Of course, if you are magic, then you must be part fairy or something,” Zoe speculated. “It’s got to be on your mom’s side. Your dad doesn’t seem very fairylike.”
“He’s not my dad!” Philothea objected.
“He’s rich,” Zoe pointed out. “You could do worse.”
“I don’t see how that’s useful if he wants to kill me,” Philothea exclaimed.
“How do you know he wants to kill you?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because he felt the need to bring an evil army of brutes to collect me!”
Zoe shrugged. “Meh. You gotta give me more than that.”
Philothea scowled.
They followed the river for what seemed like forever before they heard the welcome roar of the waterfall. When they reached it, they both drank deeply from the stream and stopped for a brief rest.
Philothea wished Keeper Ruth had specified how long they would have to walk east before coming to the house of Pouli. The note she provided was scrawled in haste. She was probably writing it as Philothea’s “secret dad” was breaking down the door. Not knowing how far they’d yet to go made their hike seem endless.
“I hope this Pouli has some real food,” Zoe mentioned as she popped a couple of blackberries in her mouth.
Zoe had just demonstrated her own magical power–voicing Philothea’s exact thoughts. Unfortunately, Emperor Zeno hadn’t had the decency to wait until after lunch before invading, so the two girls did their best to content themselves with what the forest offered. (Incidentally, the forest was a terrible host that thought serving food from tangled, scratchy brambles was a good way to entertain.)
“What kind of a man lives out here in the middle of nowhere, anyway?” Zoe added as they pushed through the brush.
At that very moment, Philothea noticed something unusual. They were approaching a steep hillside dotted with great boulders. A little ways up this slope, was the mouth of a cave. It was hidden in a patch of ferns and the only reason Philothea noticed it at all was because of the strange sounds coming from within–clattering, banging, and was that…singing?
Zoe shot Philothea a questioning glance and they both proceeded forward cautiously. When they came closer, they could hear it was a man’s voice singing the strangest lyrics they had ever heard.
“If only Pouli was a bird, how handsome would he be?
Pouli wouldn’t need to climb, he’d fly and he’d be free.
He’d eat his fill of worms and ants and other lovely things!
And fill his nest with pearls and gold and sparkly diamond rings!”
Zoe and Philothea looked at each other.
“What?” Zoe mouthed, again voicing Philothea’s thoughts.
“This must be Pouli,” Philothea whispered.
“Oh, I hope not,” Zoe sighed.
They both looked back at the little opening in the hill. The singing continued:
Back when Pouli was a bird, he had such lovely wings,
He sang for lords and pretty maids, and feasted with great kings!
Now that Pouli is a man, he lives in sorrow’s grip,
He takes no joy in merry songs and never makes a quip!
“I’m going to call him down,” Philothea said finally.
Zoe looked at her with one eyebrow slightly raised. Philothea blushed, she knew it was idiotic but what else was she supposed to do?
“How will we know whether or not this is Pouli if we don’t talk to him?” she pointed out.
“Might as well get it over with,” Zoe grumbled. “Hopefully it’s not a woodsprite or goblin or something.”
They both suddenly realized that the singing had stopped and snapped their attention back to the cave. Standing in the entrance, staring down at them with beady black eyes, was a peculiar little man. He was wearing a ragged black robe that had been repaired and re-repaired with white and silver patches. These patches dotted the garment up and down the front.
He had a tiny round face, straggly black hair, and very thick eyebrows that pointed downward between his eyes giving him a naturally angry look.
He regarded them suspiciously.
“Um…Pouli?” Philothea called. When he didn’t immediately respond, she let out a nervous little giggle.
The strange man giggled back. Not only did he giggle back, but he did a perfect impersonation of Philothea.
Was he mocking her? Philothea laughed in disbelief.
The little man imitated her again but this time, he continued the awkward little sound mixing in other kinds of laughter and voices. There were high squeaky laughs, deep booming laughs, little snickers, menacing chuckles and Philothea’s awkward and uncomfortable laugh all mixed together. The man stopped himself abruptly and regarded them, cocking his head slightly.
Philothea and Zoe had no idea what they had just witnessed, or rather, heard. They both just gaped for an uncomfortably long moment.
“You are Phil, Philly, Phil-oh-thee-a!” the little man sang.
“You know me?” Philothea gasped.
“You have hatched from Katinia, Kiki, Kiki-Katina!” he noted. “She has a beautiful hat.”
“Hatched?” Philothea gaped.
Zoe narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.
“A beautiful hat?” she asked, shooting Philothea a sideways glance. “Like a crown?”
The man cocked his head so that it was almost horizontal to his neck and stared at Zoe with those keen little eyes.
“It is a golden hat, with pretty gems, sparkly gems,” his pupils started to shrink as he named the gems. “Red gems and green gems and pretty shiny gems… that I may not have!”
He shook himself, snapping out of his trance. “Will you make me a bird again, Philly-thea?”
This little man was obviously insane. Please, please may this not be Pouli… Philothea prayed.
“So… you are Pouli?” Zoe asked.
Philothea winced. Why’d she have to ask? Why couldn’t they have continued east in blissful ignorance? She’d rather wander forever than admit that this crazy little man was the only person who could help her.
“I am Pouli,” the man confirmed. “I am a bird. I hid the baby! I saved the princess! I am a good bird.” He puffed himself up proudly. “I will get a grape.”
“You’re not a bird,” Philothea pointed out.
“Are you really trying to reason with this man?” Zoe whispered.
Philothea shrugged.
“Do you have grapes?” the man interrupted, suddenly leaning forward and looking at Philothea’s hand. She realized she was still holding a couple of blackberries.
“No,” she squeaked. “I mean um, blackberries… I have blackberries.”
“That will do! That will do!” the man exclaimed in his chipper sing-song manner. He started stumbling his way down the hill toward them.
Both Philothea and Zoe stood frozen, regarding the man as he made his way toward them.
“I’m thinking maybe we should go,” Zoe offered. “Before this gets weird.”
Philothea didn’t know how this could get any weirder.
“Go? But…” she looked back up as the odd man stumbled down through the brush. “…we’ve found Pouli… I think…”
“Yeah, I know he says he’s Pouli…” Zoe began skeptically. “But… well, he’d probably admit to being a shrew if we asked him.”
Philothea bit her lip thoughtfully. Zoe was right. This couldn’t really be the person Keeper Ruth wanted them to find. Still… she had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Let’s just…” Philothea felt herself grinning at the absurdity of what she was about to suggest. “Let’s just act like he’s totally normal. Play along. Maybe we’ll learn something useful.”
Philothea forced down a volley of giggles when she saw the incredulous look Zoe shot her. By now, the crazy hermit was almost upon them.
The Fables of Para Sympan 