The Gift From Poseidon: When Gods Walked Among Us (Volume 2) (44 page)

If this bothered the child, she did not show it.  Just the opposite, she climbed onto the bed and smiled wide –
she
had brought gifts and to sit close to Evagoria was her reward.  Thankful that the little one’s smile washed away most of the shame brought on by her mindless stupidity, Evagoria smiled back.

“I have lots of friends!” the little one bragged.  Eyes – happy.  She then sighed, and the disclaimer came next.  “They are all pandas, but they are still my friends.  I take care of them and they take care of me.  I love them and they love me.”  She then sighed deep.  Eyes – sad.  “Still … one more friend
would
be nice.”

With a bath that might take days, Evagoria now tried to imagine what this tiny wretch might look like if scrubbed up.  Grungy hair that did its best to hide blonde streaks washed and brushed and cleansing waters to deepen the blue of those pale blue eyes – the two would suddenly look a good deal alike.  Aside from the birthmark, of course.

“You carved this yourself?” Evagoria asked as she picked up the wooden panda from the table to her left and held it up.

“I sure did!” the little one answered with a proud sweetness.  Eyes – happy.

“You are very talented – it’s so detailed!  I can almost see the white and black of the giant panda.”

“
Well
… I would have painted it, but I don’t have money or anything to trade for paint.”  Eyes – sad.

“And that’s just fine!” Evagoria said quickly.  “I would like to paint it myself, and then when I am done, I will bring it back to show you.”

Eyes – happy.  Then another sigh.  Eyes – sad.  “You will forget about me.  Just like everyone else.”

“Oh, it has been a pretty crazy couple of days!” Evagoria howled.  She set the carved panda back on the table next to the sunflower.  “The games, these two gifts – I won’t be forgetting anything for quite a while.”  She then smiled as wide as she could.  “Especially you.”

The little girl’s beaming smile matched Evagoria’s grin.  Eyes – happy.  She then reached into a pocket.  “Oh, I almost forgot. 
This
is for you too!”

“
Three
gifts
– goodness, is it my birthday?” Evagoria asked playfully as she took the shiny green apple into her hand.  The child giggled.

The apple wiped down and set in front of her, Evagoria brought her palms close.  With a glow and a scraping hum, she then pulled them apart.

“Oh, this won’t do!”

The deficient dagger nothing like she normally bronze-made, she dropped it onto the floor.  She then pushed her palms together again and, with a small wince this time, pulled them apart, but more slowly.  A proper dagger now in her left hand, Evagoria looked up.  Mesmerized eyes and a half-open mouth looked down.

“I have never seen a Mermaid bronze-make something so close to me,” the girl drawled in awe.

“It is quite useful, I must say.”

Evagoria cut the apple in two, sliced away the seeds, dispatched the dagger, and held out one half.

The girl reached out with a tiny hand to take the offered apple piece, but paused.  As five dainty fingers wiggled in thought, Evagoria immediately realized why: The little one had stolen the apple.  Or at least taken without permission what was really hers anyway.  Sapiens received more than they could possibly eat or spend from the other four nations in exchange for their medicines and teachings, yet it appeared that the frailest Sapien Evagoria had ever seen received none of this bounty.

Stolen or not, Evagoria could not have cared less.  She shoved the apple half into a hand barely large enough to hold it and smiled.  No pause this time, the little girl smiled back and gobbled down the apple piece as if she had not eaten in days.  Evagoria then broke off a small piece of her own half, popped it into her mouth, and held out the rest.  Again no pause, the girl devoured this piece as well.

“I saw you watch the sunrise,” the child remarked as she sloppily licked the juice off her fingers.  “Do you always watch the sun come up for so long?”

“Just the opposite, actually.  This morning was the first time I have seen it rise in, well, I can’t really remember how long, because I usually stay awake well into the night and sleep past daybreak.”

With a finger still in her mouth, the child froze as if she could not believe such words.  After a few moments, she finally removed this finger from her mouth and wiped both hands on Evagoria’s bed sheet.

“Ooops, I shouldn’t have done that.”  Eyes – sad.  “I’m sorry, I’m ––”

“Oh, don’t worry about it!” Evagoria said in her kindest voice to put the youngling at ease.  “I’ve been wiping my hands on these sheets from the moment they brought me in here.”

Eyes – happy.  “Well,
I
don’t stay awake into the night because pandas don’t like to stay up late.  Simple, easy to remember – aside for non-enders
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– we go to bed at sunset and wake up at sunrise.  But, sometimes, like today, I do wake up a little early.”

“And I’m pleased you did.”

Evagoria pitied this unlucky little angel.  Sapiens were a brilliant lot, but they were terribly cruel as well.  More than once, she caught herself staring at those tiny hands no bigger than the hands of a four-year-old Mermaid.

But even if they were the size of Yeturi claws, considering this one’s lot in life, would it matter?

Of the age when she should be in the throes of childhood, this grand time of every life appeared far away from the girl’s grasp.  It had obviously passed the little Sapien by or possibly never even revealed itself to those charming pale blue eyes.

Yet here she was!

Delightful as one bathed in grime could be and chatting the morning away with the next Mermaid queen, she looked upon Evagoria just as a youngling should: A trusting look, a comforting look – as if they were lifelong friends.  Lifelong friends who now heard approaching shouts from down the hall.

A sudden fear carved itself into the little one’s face.  Eyes –
wary
.

“I am to be hidden,” she said in a skittish voice as she sprung from the bed.  “Never to be seen or heard by any but my own.”

“At least tell me your name?” Evagoria begged.  She could hear clearly the voices of her father and grandfather.

The hopeless look that now stared back made it obvious to Evagoria that this was not the first time another asked for the little girl’s name just before she had to resume hiding.  Queen Marseea’s booming voice made it obvious she drew near as well.

Eyes – TERRIFIED.

“I am … I am,” tears began to flow and her little body shook, “not to be seen, not to be heard – I have to go.”

Evagoria turned to face the forthcoming footsteps.  The door flew open and the three she had heard along with Zacharias marched in.  She offered her fakest smile, and then quickly turned back to the girl.  A girl who was now either invisible or, more likely, suddenly gone.

“How you feeling?” Theodoric asked as he bent down and kissed Evagoria.  Her grandfather offered a few kind words and kissed her too.

Zacharias resumed his place on her left side, but did not lay down this time.  To reward him, she hugged him.

“I hope you slept well, Princess.”

“Oh, I did!  Very much so, my friend.”  With a kiss to Zacharias’ cheek, Evagoria now watched the Sapien queen.

And kept watching
….

A look of curious suspicion swept over Marseea’s face.  She wandered about the room, inspected the silk cloth covering Evagoria’s splint, and then wandered about the room a second time.  Evagoria struggled to hear and answer questions the others asked of her as she kept her eyes on the Sapien queen, but continued to watch.

Finally, Marseea stood just behind Zacharias.  She then touched the sunflower.  Next, she set her eyes on the carved panda.  Arms crossed, smoky eyes turned into embers, lips much too luscious for any creature two plus centuries old turned thin, and a whisper filled with spite spilled past these lips:

“
Scutaria.
”

*****

The sunflower gifted to her dead, the scrumptious apple shared and gone, Evagoria placed the carved panda in her pack as if it were a block of the purest gold.  Zacharias having slept in her room last night, there would be no sunrise surprise today.

“Queen Marseea is taking proper care of me, Mother, but I do wish to be out of this room.  Two nights is enough.  Now that Penthesilea has said I need no more spells – are you bringing me back to our prefecture tonight?”

“I am,” Diedrika answered sweetly.  “And then, after the festivals and conference are over, we will depart for Atagartis.  But
not
by sky chariot.  We are taking that pig, Laigria, with us and I have a feeling, just a hunch really, that she would much rather walk than fly.”  Evagoria giggled at this.  “A way to earn her keep, you could say.”

The distance between Antediluvium and Atagartis easily thirty leagues, Evagoria guessed it would take at least a week for a Sapien to make this journey by foot.  The nasty woman was burly enough to grow hair on her chest, but by her heft, she did not look as if she had done a whole lot of walking in her life.  Considering this, such a trip would most likely take even longer.  Evagoria sighed.  She wished she could accompany her family the whole way home, but the second leg of studies began just five days after the festivals ended.

Diedrika drew close.  She then tilted her head and threw Evagoria a curious look.  “But you did not bid everyone away just to ask me this now did you?”

“No, Mother, I did not.”  Evagoria took in a deep breath.  “Zacharias has acted, well, different, strange, since he fell and threw me off.  Did you say something to him afterward?  Possibly even scold him?”

“I did.  And you would like to know what I said?”

Evagoria lifted her chin high.  “Yes.  And I want the truth.”

Diedrika shot her a stern look, raised a single eyebrow, and formed her lips into that pout none could duplicate, but everyone knew.  Evagoria immediately knew why she got this look: To hide the truth – no matter why – the purest form of weakness, her mother NEVER lied.

“I am sorry, Mother.”  Evagoria’s chin was no longer so high.  “I know you would only tell me the truth.  I just really want to know what you told him.  As I said, he has acted odd since.”

“I told Zacharias,” Diedrika began slowly, “that if he ever fails you again when it really matters, it just might be his throat that pays for such failure.”

Evagoria gasped.  “Oh, Mother, please – you would never do such a thing.  You know this as much as I do.”

Diedrika moved even closer to Evagoria.  “
Of course
, I do,” she said as if speaking to a frightened youngling.  She stroked Evagoria’s hair, her eyes turned soft, and she smiled warmly.

MUCH too softly, MUCH too warmly!

Her mother then leaned in and her lips were now but a whisper from Evagoria’s right ear.  “If such a punishment were ever deemed necessary, it would not be by my hand the blade is drawn across his throat, but
yours
.”

These words stunned Evagoria.  There was no hiding it, so she did not even bother to try.  Motionless, silent, she stared deep into her mother’s eyes.  These eyes now glowing green were so full of wisdom, so full of love for her, yet could cast upon their world a coldness Evagoria did not understand….

But increasingly craved to wield.  Other than setting free the wickedness scratching at her belly more and more with each passing day, was there any other way to learn such power?

Diedrika glided toward the door.  Once in the entryway, she stopped and turned around.

“Although your time to take the throne is still years away, you might as well learn this now.  It can be argued for or against that to be a queen is the most rewarding life one could live, but one thing about this life
is
certain and cannot be argued, my Gift from Poseidon: It is the most complicated.  No matter who is at fault, no matter why he faltered, failure is
always
your enemy.”

“Because Sapiens can do what not even the gods dare try, we gaze upon them in awe.  Our own creation as evidence – no other kind can give life so swiftly, so surely.  But Sapiens are also meddlesome, too powerful for their own good – no other kind can take life so swiftly, so surely.  Fear and awe in equal parts from what a Sapien is molded, they cannot grip us in one without the other.”  I often recall my father’s wise words, but it is only on THIS day, that I realize they tell of not just the past, but of the future as well.

– Hezekiah, Gryphon Historian

– Late Summer, Year 4,254 KT
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