The Crystal Clipper (8 page)

Nothing would have given Ishtar more pleasure than to have Dorinda sprinkle some rat poison in the delectable, simmering stew, then watch as the rodent Judiah choked and gasped his agonizing final breath. No one but Dorinda could have talked him out of such a notion, for Ishtar trusted her ingenuity in seeing that Judiah got his just desserts.

Now, as Dorinda and Ishtar play host to the traitor in their midst, Judiah gorges himself in blissful ignorance of their desire for vengeance.

“This is wonderful, wonderful, Dorinda. I've always said you were the best cook on the Island,” Judiah gushes. He holds out his plate and Dorinda serves him another huge helping of stew.

“Right now, she's the
only
cook on the Island,” Ishtar quips. His friendly smile is an odd contrast to his eyes which are laser beams of rage.

Judiah laughs heartily, never taking his own eyes off the sumptuous fare, the kind of food he hasn't had in months. “Always one with a sense of humor, Ishtar.”

“It seems to run in my family,” Ishtar says, and pours more wine into Judiah's generous-sized goblet.

“Why else would a man be given a woman's name?” Dorinda plays along.

“Yes, it's true. Mother had quite a sense of humor. Father was not so amused.”

“Ah, but your namesake is legendary, just as you will be one day,” Judiah says, lavishing praise on Ishtar in his usual bootlicking manner. “You were meant for greatness, my friend. It is your destiny.”

Ishtar's mood turns serious. “My destiny will not be fulfilled, I fear, not as long as Saliana is imprisoned.” He shifts to restrained eagerness. “So, tell me, what news have you of David?”

Judiah casts a sidelong glance at Ishtar, as though afraid to meet the man's eyes straight on. Eating is a convenient protective device. “I have heard nothing since he scaled the Tower wall.”

“Nor has he communicated with me through the Moldavite,” Ishtar says, voicing sincere concern.

Judiah stops eating, but his mouth is full. Now, he dares to look at Ishtar, his expression a mixture of apprehension and opportunity. “You fear he is captured?”

Ishtar nods. “I can think of no other reason he hasn't contacted me. Can you?”

Judiah hesitates. He swallows the stew loudly. “I hesitate to say, Ishtar,” he begins prudently, then seizes the opportunity. “But you know that I am not quite certain of the boy's motives.”

“If you did not trust him, Judiah, why did you help him get inside the Palace grounds?” Ishtar treads lightly, but emphatically.

“Why, for you, Ishtar.” Judiah's response is a fusion of feigned indignation and ardor. “How could I deny you your hope that Saliana would be rescued? If I were wrong about the boy, I could never forgive myself for not helping.”

Ishtar pats Judiah's shoulder fraternally. “Always there when I need you.” He and Dorinda lock eyes, knowingly. “Yes, you are a good friend. Here. A bit more wine.” Ishtar lifts the carafe to pour but, suddenly, he grabs his chest in pain, spilling the wine all over Judiah.

“Ishtar! What is it?” Judiah's brows form shaggy parentheses around his shocked eyes.

Ishtar groans, staggers about the cave, falls over his work table, then slumps to the floor. Dorinda and Judiah rush to his side.

Dorinda cries hysterically. “Ishtar! Ishtar. Speak to me. Please!”

“My God,” Judiah gasps. “Is he - dead?”

Ishtar stirs slightly, flutters his eyes, and tries to speak, but only manages a forced whisper. “Judiah - come closer.”

Judiah bends a little closer and Ishtar pulls him down by his shirtfront, bringing them both nose to nose.

“Get word to David - and Saliana. Tell her - I love her - tell her she can stop singing now -” He closes his eyes, breathes a labored last breath, and falls limp.

Dorinda is grief stricken. “Ishtar! No! Oh, no.”

“Is he dead
now
?”

Dorinda cradles her dear friend in her arms. “Yes. He is dead.”

Dorinda wipes her eyes with her scarf and blows her nose into it. “Oh, it was all too much for him. Poor, tormented, Ishtar,” she wails dramatically. “Now he'll never know if Saliana is rescued.

“What did he mean - tell Saliana she can stop singing now?” Judiah's voice trembles, like someone who knows he is in trouble but not quite sure how deep.

“Well,” Dorinda says, regaining her composure, “you know that Saliana only agreed to sing for the Glass Snake to assure that Ishtar would be safe.” Judiah nods. “But now that he's –” She begins to wail again. Judiah pats her shoulder gingerly. Clearing her throat and restraining her emotions, Dorinda continues. “As soon as Saliana stops singing, the Snake will begin to weaken. He will no longer be invincible.”

Judiah's mouth pops open in stunned silence. “You mean he could possibly be slain by someone?” Judiah shudders as though surprised that such a suggestion could come from his own mouth.

“Oh, yes,” Dorinda says matter-of-factly. “And very easily, too.”

Judiah dares to ask, “How?”

“Cut off his tail and he will die.” Dorinda graphically illustrates this with a deft swipe at the air with an imaginary knife. Judiah jerks back from her motion.

“His tail?” Judiah is totally baffled, but attempts to conceal his ignorance. “Yes, yes, of course. His tail.”

“Go, now, Judiah,” Dorinda requests sadly. “I must prepare my friend for his voyage to eternity.”

“Can I help you bury him?” Judiah's tone seems slightly eager, then shifting oddly to commiseration, he adds quickly, “My poor friend, Ishtar.”

“Come back in an hour and you can help me carry him to the beach where the Moon Singer is moored. That's a good spot.”

“The beach? But - no, no you can't bury him in the sand with all those crabs and scavenger birds,” Judiah protests. What he doesn't say is “The Moon Singer is not there because I'm a traitor and I helped steal her!” What he does suggest is, “How about just a nice proper burial under a tree or something?”

“Certainly not. I will row him out to the open sea, in plain view of that magnificent clipper ship. Ishtar always wanted to be buried at sea. You wouldn't deny a dead man his final wish, would you, Judiah?”

“Oh, no, no. Of course not. I just mean that the beach is too far. Let us take him to the cove on the north side,” Judiah's mouth just keeps spewing out solicitous overtures of accommodation, one sentence running into the other. “It's much closer. In fact, I'll go and fetch the dinghy from the beach and have it ready for you. I will even light some torches, as a tribute to Ishtar.”

“Oh, Judiah, you are a good friend. The cove it shall be. It was one of Ishtar's favorite places.” Dorinda gives him a cursory embrace. Judiah exhales in relief.

An hour later, as Dorinda requested, Judiah returns to Ishtar's cave to assist Dorinda with the burial. He and Dorinda lift the canvas bag that holds Ishtar's dead body and place it in the dinghy that Judiah brought to the cove.

“Thank you, Judiah. I will do the rest alone. I wish to say farewell to my friend in private.”

“Of course, Dorinda. I understand.”

Dorinda climbs into the dinghy and Judiah pushes it far enough into the water that she can enable the oars. Slowly, she rows the boat away from the shore as Judiah watches, giving a curt wave of acknowledgment now and again. Once Dorinda is past the breakers, she sees Judiah rush from the beach.

“Only a few more yards, my friend, and you will be swimming with the fishes,” Dorinda says with a wry humor.

“Hurry up. It's hot as blazes in here,” Ishtar complains from inside the bag.

“Well, stick your face out and breathe the air. No one can see you now.”

Ishtar's face peeks out. He breathes in a grateful breath of fresh, sea air. Contented, he then inquires after Judiah. “Do you think he fell for it?”

“You were very convincing. I almost thought you were dead myself.” Dorinda laughs heartily. “I only hope you can swim to the Moon Singer without truly having a heart attack.”

“Desire shall be my driving force.”

“Better you should have webbed feet,” Dorinda quips.

Dorinda continues to row for a while. The water is smooth and calm, the only sound heard is the dipping and splashing of the oars. “I think we are far enough away from the cove,” she informs Ishtar. “Thanks to Judiah, the poor stupid fool, you are now even closer to where the Moon Singer is anchored. But you must still swim 200 yards to the east.”

She rotates the oars out of the water and sets them down inside the dinghy. “Let me loosen the strings on the bag. Get ready now. I'm going to push you out of the boat.”

Dorinda struggles to lift Ishtar out of the dinghy and nearly falls overboard herself when Ishtar's bulk hits the water. A rope tied to the oar braces keeps the bag from sinking. Soon, Ishtar is free of the canvas bag and begins to swim smoothly away.

Dorinda watches his every move, silently praying. “Pace yourself, Ishtar. Pace yourself. Do not make even one splash.”

“You were ordered not to come here again until I called for you.”

An angry Jaycina sharply admonishes Judiah, who is breathless from his quick jog from the cove to the Palace. But he carelessly ignores her disapproval.

“Yes, High Priestess. I know. But this could not wait. I have most urgent news.”

With an impatient wave of her hand, she gives him an opening. “Get on with it, then.”

Judiah's news is blunt and without embellishment. “Ishtar is dead.”

“What?” Jaycina's movement from sitting to standing is so swift and powerful that she nearly tips over her weighty, elaborately carved imperial chair. “You bungling idiot!”

“It's not my doing,” Judiah defends himself. “He had a seizure right before my eyes. His heart gave out. He died almost instantly.”

“Do you realize what this means?” Jaycina's eyes flash hotter than Judiah had ever seen them, and his boldness begins to melt into sweaty palms. “If Saliana discovers her father is dead, she will cease to sing. This will have grave implications for our Great Serpent Ruler.”

“Yes, grave indeed, grave indeed. But, Jaycina, it could have fortuitous implications for you.”

Her temper now under control, Jaycina sits down again, but alert like a panther waiting to spring at the slightest provocation. “Meaning?”

“Is it not true that you, High Priestess, are truly the ruler of this Palace, indeed of all the Island? You have all the responsibility while the Glass Snake reaps the rewards.”

“I warn you, Judiah. Watch your tongue.”

“May it be cut out if I displease you, High Priestess, but was it not you who convinced Ishtar and the Islanders to build this magnificent Palace? And was it not you who shrewdly relocated the Moon Singer out of range of the Glass Volcano, rendering the ship's crystal energy totally useless?” Judiah gushes with barely a breath. He's on a roll of sycophancy, his sole purpose to disarm Jaycina into finally giving him his due.

“True, you have unimpeachable authority over all the activities of the Palace, but think of the eternal glory you could have as ruler of the Prism Palace if -” Now he fires the winning rejoinder. “ - if the Mighty Glass Snake were dead!” Judiah involuntarily clamps his hands over his mouth and winces, as though realizing he has gone too far and should bite his tongue.

A silent pause from Jaycina as she considers him and his revelation. Then, she says softly, “But he is invincible, Judiah.”

“Only if Saliana sings. But if she were to learn that her father is dead, her music would cease. And the Glass Snake would be vulnerable. He could then be easily -
killed
.” The word squeaks out. Judiah clears his throat. “
Ahem
- easily killed.”

“And who would be brave enough to slay the Glass Snake? You, my loyal Judiah?” Jaycina nearly croons this suggestion through pursed lips.

“Me? Uh - well - yes, for you, High Priestess, I could.” Then mumbles the last, “But only if he was very weak and feeble.”

“Once again, you have proven your loyalty to me, Judiah. And have surprised me with your courage. You shall be justly rewarded.” Jaycina claps her hands to summon two of her attendants. They enter and bow to her. “Take Judiah to the Temple Gallery and prepare him for a celebration in his honor, which shall commence tomorrow morning.”

“Uh - thank you, High Priestess,” Judiah says, with dubious gratitude. “It is my humble pleasure to serve you.” Judiah bows to her several times and backs out of the room, an attendant with a firm grip on each of his elbows.

“The pleasure,” Jaycina purrs deliciously, “is all mine, Judiah. All mine.”

Fretful, Saliana paces back and forth in her chamber. The Glass Snake roars impatiently, but Saliana stamps her foot defiantly.

“No! No, I will not sing anymore!” she shouts. Then in a hushed tone, “Oh, David, David. Where are you? Please come back and take me home.”

“You mustn't upset yourself, my dear. It is not good for the voice.”

Saliana spins on her heels to face the High Priestess who has unexpectedly appeared in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

“Paying you a much overdue visit, my sweet. I fear I have neglected you. Is that why you refuse to sing this evening?”

“I shall never sing again.” Saliana crosses her arms and sets her jaw stubbornly. What's the point? I'm still a prisoner, separated from my friends, never to see my father. Why should I sing?”

“When one has a great gift such as yours, how can you deprive the world? It is your duty, your obligation to use this gift.”

“My gift was meant to uplift the faithful, not to give power to the greedy.”

“The giving should be unconditional,” Jaycina says, patronizingly, then recants with measured empathy. “But I can see your point. I suspect the real reason for your distress is your friend, David Nickerson.”

“How did you know about - I mean, I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Come, come, now,” Jaycina says, meanness creeping back into her approach. “You know perfectly well that nothing escapes me. You believe he is here to rescue you. True?”

Saliana's voice trembles as she makes a brave attempt to stand up to Jaycina. “And what if he is? Will you keep him a prisoner just like me?”

“There is no need. David Nickerson is free to go any time he so desires. I, in fact, offered him his freedom, and yours, but he rejected it.”

Saliana considers the High Priestess carefully. Jaycina is a master at switching her remarks from caustic to rueful, a technique Saliana has been subjected to countless times. Nonetheless, vulnerability clouds her thinking even as she asserts, “I don't believe you.”

“As you wish,” Jaycina says with a shrug, then inserts the knife of doubt a little deeper. “But did he tell you his real reason for coming to the Palace?”

“His real reason?”

“Did he not mention the plight of his young sister, Sally?” Jaycina clucks her tongue meaning to chastise David's deception. “How cruel of him. She is really the one he has come to rescue, not you. That is why he rejected my offer to let both of you leave the Palace. He believes Sally is here within these walls and he will not leave without her, even if it means he must stay here forever - with me.”

Stiffening her spine with her last vestige of courage, Saliana rejects this information. “David wouldn't deceive me, but you would. You lied to my father about everything, now you're lying to me, aren't you? Aren't you!”

But Saliana is fragile from months of captivity and the mind games the High Priestess plays relentlessly. Tears begin to fall down her cheeks and she cries softly. “Oh, Jaycina, why are you doing this. Please let me go. I want to see Father. Please.”

“Then grant me a small request,” Jaycina says, a spider enticing a fly into its web. “Sing tonight and I will arrange a visit with your father.”

“Do you mean it? Or is this another trick?” Saliana is afraid to believe her, and afraid not to. “Oh, please don't lie to me about this. Please, Jaycina.”

“You have my word,” Jaycina says curtly. “Sing tonight and first thing tomorrow I will hold a special reunion for the two of you.”

Saliana's shoulders slump and breath streams out of her as she yields. “All right. I will sing tonight. But if I don't see my father tomorrow, I truly will never sing again.”

“Fair enough,” Jaycina says, victorious.

Saliana sits down in front of the tower window and picks up her harp. Through the choking tears of despair she sings:

“Moon Singer - Moon Singer - take to the sea -

Fly on the wind where the sky used to be -”

* * *

Costumed in vibrant gossamer gowns, twenty royal dancing girls twirl alluringly to the exotic music of the Palace musicians. A sumptuous feast is spread out on the banquet tables, and wine flows in abundance from jug to goblet.

Jaycina is seated on the dais in her Imperial throne, and David sits next to her. He stares straight ahead, his eyes glazed over in a hypnotic trance.

On a pedestal in front of the dais is Judiah, whose expression of terror and dilated pupils betray his gay laughter. Jaycina, he has learned, is not above a cruel joke and a whimsical change of heart. Many a celebration has turned into a last supper.

Jaycina stands, the crowd is hushed. “Loyal subjects,” she says, gesturing as a benevolent host. “We are here to honor one of your friends. A man who, until now, has chosen to remain anonymous while performing countless acts of fidelity for our Great Serpent Ruler. To demonstrate our gratitude, the Princess Saliana will now sing for him. This honor, until today, has been reserved only for the Glass Snake.”

Judiah chokes on his drink and the wine spurts from his nose. All eyes turn as an entourage carries Saliana on a sedan chair to the center of the dais. Her entire posture speaks resignation as she holds her harp securely in her arms. But when she sees David seated next to Jaycina, she bolts upright, her harp falling helplessly to the floor.

“David. David?” Saliana beseeches him, but he doesn't respond. She studies his face, the deadly blank stare, and a wave of knowing comes over her. “Oh, David, no.”

Swiftly, Jaycina points her scepter at David and a stunning flash of light spirals around him. When it dissipates, Ishtar is standing there instead. Murmurs of astonishment spread rapidly through the crowd.

Saliana's eyes stare, unbelieving. She finds her voice but it is filled with confusion, fear and hopefulness all at once. “Father? Father…is it you? Is it really you?”

“Yes, daughter. Just as Jaycina promised. Now you must sing. It is your duty to share your gift.” Ishtar is stoic and his eyes do not meet his daughter's.

Judiah clasps his hands together and bites on his knuckles. Under his breath he pleads, “Don't sing, Saliana. Oh, please don't sing. Oh, I'm doomed.”

“But Father, not for the Glass Snake. This is not what my gift is for.”

“Its purpose is not for you to question. Sing, Saliana, so that everyone, including the Glass Snake, can revel in the infinite beauty and divine power of your music.”

Ishtar's stance, like petrified wood, is not the Ishtar Saliana knows and loves. “Father why are you saying these things? Oh, Father, what have they done to you?”

Unable to control the impulse, Judiah cries out, “Don't do it, Saliana! Don't sing. It's a trick. Ishtar is dead! It was his dying wish. Don't sing!”

Saliana screams, then sobs uncontrollably, sinking pitifully back onto the chair. Jaycina gestures and her attendants immediately rush to Saliana's side. “Take her back to the Tower,” she commands with disgust. When Saliana is removed, Jaycina brandishes her scepter and Ishtar is transformed back into David Nickerson.

Judiah cowers with his face in his hands, crouched down on the pedestal. He rants madly, “David is Ishtar. Ishtar is dead. Don't sing, Saliana. Don't.” He peeks through his fingers only to see no sign of her. “Where is she? Where is Saliana? She was just here. Wasn't she?”

Jaycina saunters over to the babbling Judiah. “Too much wine has stimulated your idiotic imagination,” she belittles him. “Saliana is secured in the Royal Tower.”

“But I saw her. I did - didn't I? You told everyone she was going to sing. I could have sworn you did, didn't you?”

Jaycina angles her head and gives Judiah a sidelong glance of pouty indignation. “And spoil your celebration? Why, you insult me. But, I forgive you.” She snaps back to a festive air. “I promised you a reward for your loyalty and you shall have it. Tonight. And now,” she addresses the crowd with ostentation, “let the celebration continue.”

On cue, the madness of music and revelry resumes.