The King's Daughters (34 page)

"What hardship are you talking about, you married a count," said the king.

"Yes," said the countess in a voice rendered deep with anger. "And marrying that disgusting bag of wine was my first step toward my goal. Many more followed."

Suddenly the Baba's words made sense to me. "The queen's illness, the princesses' enchantments, Lars's condition. It was all meant to force the king into marrying you. Those were all . . . means to an end."

The countess didn't reply. She only smiled. An odd detail struck me. For some reason, I thought her eyes seemed bluer than before. From where I stood they appeared as though they were two dark pools of stormy water. As I was pondering the meaning of such a change, she raised her arms in the air. What followed happened so fast that it took me completely by surprise. First, a rush of energy hit me. Then all the banquet hall's doors slammed shut and the giant urns, spread throughout the room, began overflowing, spilling out water all over the floor. Screams of panic sounded through the room as the crowd dashed to the doors.

"They're locked," shouted a nobleman.

"The water's rising fast," yelled a lady in panic.

"All is lost! We're doomed!" cried another.

My gaze turned to the countess. I gasped in shock. Her skin had acquired the silvery white color of a fish's belly. Scales ran along her neck, and her hair, which was now green, had broken loose from its ties and flew wildly about her head as if animated by a life of its own.

I took a step ahead and was appalled to discover that the water was already touching my calves. "Someone stop her," I shouted.

Brandishing his sword, the king advanced toward the countess. She aimed white scaly hands in his direction and mumbled inaudible words.

The king flew backward as if he were pulled from behind.

I didn't look to see if the king had survived his fight. I was too worried about Eva's safety to care about his. So I was relieved when, looking through the moving crowd, I saw that she had managed to slip out of the disciples' grip. I tried running to her aid but the water had reached my thighs, making it impossible.

All of a sudden the atmosphere in the hall became stormy. The light dimmed; thunder rolled, wind blew, and the water, which now licked my waist, became a stirring mass of crashing waves.

Grinding my teeth, I tucked my chin down and moved forward. I felt someone pulling me from behind. I turned, facing a distraught-looking Auguste.

"LEAVE HER," he screamed above the thundering storm. "WE MUST STOP THE PRIESTESS BEFORE SHE DROWNS US ALL."

"EVA NEEDS ME," I shouted back at Auguste before moving toward my beloved.

"Amir, no,"
a firm voice ordered in my head.
"Change your aim, brother. Change aim before it's too late."
I froze. It was my brother Jafer's voice. Reluctantly, the focus of my attention switched to the countess. She looked more and more like Samu, the god she worshiped. He was taking domicile in her body. That was obvious. If I didn't stop her now, while the transformation was still incomplete, I would never be able to do it after. "Can't beat a god," Khuan had told me. So I had to dispatch her before she became one.

"But how can I stop her?" I asked myself aloud.
The urns. Break the urns.

At first, it seemed simple enough, but I soon realized that it was impossible, because I was stuck in the center of a stormy sea and the urns were all out of reach.

I wracked my mind for another plan of action and something came to me. Battling the waves, I approached the old alchemist. "The statue! Auguste, give me the statue."

Fortunately, Auguste still had it. With the statue held firmly in my fist, I gestured for him to follow me. Together, we managed to swim to a tall, marble-top table set against the wall. Gripping the table's side for support, I struck the statue against the table's hard marble surface until its head broke off.

Well, my plan didn't work. Nothing happened. Actually, that wasn't quite true. The storm, raging furiously in the room, worsened. Moreover, now it was raining. The water was now at my chest.

From the corner of my eye, I saw that the royal guards had managed to climb atop the dais where the water was only waist high. Filled with hope, I watched them approach the countess.

She emitted a throaty laugh, as if welcoming their approach. Then I saw the guard at the head of the group vanish underwater. Another guard followed, then another. One by one, all the guards were pulled under the waves as though by some invisible hands. Howls of terror rang throughout the banquet hall as more and more people were being dragged under the angry surf.

In panic, I grabbed Auguste and lifted him onto the table. Then I climbed up beside him.

"We must break those cursed urns," said Auguste.

I nodded. "How?"

Auguste pointed to the two storm lamps hooked to the wall above us. Protected from the rain and wind by glass casings, their flames were still burning. "Light the balls I gave you."

I shook my head. "It's no use; the moment I lift the glass casing the rain will extinguish the flame. We have to look elsewhere for a solution." That's exactly what I did. I looked. From this high standpoint, I could see the entire room. The urns were now underwater. Perhaps I could swim to them. I began a search for the urn nearest to me. In this process, I discovered a small object set atop a tall bookshelf. A clay bowl decorated with a raindrop pattern. Not only was it out of place in this hall, but it was very familiar to me. I could swear I had seen a similar bowl in Isabo's cell. This had to mean something. It just had to.

Removing my kaftan, I plunged into the stormy water and swam with all my might in the direction of the bookshelf. Finally, my efforts paid off, and my hands made contact with the bottom shelf. I grabbed the shelf above it and hauled myself up.

I was halfway out of the water when I felt something grabbing my ankles. A violent tug downward followed. I held on to the bookshelf. Again something pulled me down. This time, however, one of my hands slipped and I felt myself being dragged underwater. In desperation, I tightened the one hand that was still gripping the bookshelf. Another brutal tug shook me and I went down, bookcase and all.

The massive piece of furniture hit the water with a huge splash, nearly drowning me, and whatever was pulling on my ankles let go.

Freed, I swam up, took a gulp of air, and plunged down again. Through the dark murky water, I spotted the bowl; it was resting on the floor right below me. As I reached out to grab it, my fingers got entangled in some green strings. Before I could pull my hand back, a green veil of those strings had snared my arms and engulfed my face. Soon they were circling my throat. I felt a cold body pressing itself against my back. Icy hands seized my waist. It was the countess, I realized. Damn, she had me. Those strings surrounding my neck, that was her hair, and it was now crushing my windpipe, choking me. In panic, I kicked and thrashed as hard I could . . . to no effect.

Regaining control of myself, I slipped two fingers under the rope of hair. I tried tearing it off, and I would have succeeded if the countess hadn't twisted her snarling face around and bit my hand.

I gasped; a mouthful of water entered my lungs. I coughed, and it made my situation worse. The edge of my vision darkened. I felt myself sinking to the bottom of this makeshift lake. My back hit the floor. The countess's face suddenly appeared above mine. I tried gouging her eyes out. She easily brushed my hand away; it struck the floor, and my fingers made contact with the rough surface off a rounded object. I turned my head and looked at it.

Through an increasingly thickening haze, I saw bright blue raindrops. The bowl was right under my fingertips. With my last strength, I seized the bowl and smashed it on the countess's face.

A bloodcurdling shriek pierced my eardrums and catapulted me out of the water and high up into the air. When I hit the water again the shock of my landing, which felt very much like a giant body slap, revived me.

Gasping for air, I stared around in dismay. The rain had stopped, the storm had dissipated, and the water level was coming down. I could see the urns again. I could stand up. After an anxious survey of the room, I discovered Eva hanging from the dais's drapery. She had climbed up the velvet panel to escape being dragged underwater. I was so relieved I almost fell to my knees. "My clever princess," I whispered with pride.

Then I spotted the countess. A shiver ran down my spine. Caught in mid-transformation, she was helplessly flapping around in the now knee-high water like, well, like a fish—except that she still had arms that ended in webbed hands. Surprisingly her face remained as beautiful as ever, even with her mouth twisted into a rictus of rage. Her expression then softened, and Ivana took on an air of intense concentration. Her lips began moving. Her voice rose.
"Wak me akiros Samu ikiv mahoke."
She repeated these words over and over.

I recognized this language; it was an archaic form of Sorvinkian. As a wave of tingling ran up my spine, I knew without a shred of doubt that she was reciting an incantation. Sure enough, the urns began spouting water again.

Oh no, I thought. Not again! Determined to wring the priestess's neck and get this over with once and for all, I ran toward her.

"Skah,"
she hissed at me.

An invisible fist struck me in the chest. I sailed to the other end of the hall and hit the wall with force. Dizzied, I staggered to my feet. "All right, that won't work."

"THE BALLS," Auguste yelled from his spot on the tabletop. "LIGHT THE BALLS BEFORE IT STARTS RAINING AGAIN."

I dashed to the nearest storm lamp, lifted the glass casing, and then pulled out the silver balls from my pocket.

A small bit of wick was sticking out of their top-ends. But when I tried lighting one, all it made was a series of crackle and pop sounds—and some smoke. I cursed the futility of it all, yet I persevered, and after a nail-biting period of time, the flame of my lamp dried the wicks enough for them to light.

My first impulse was to throw the balls at the urns, but at the last moment I hesitated. I wasn't sure if this was the best move anymore. I stared at the countess's hissing face. Perhaps
she
should be my target.

"THROW! THROW!" shouted Auguste, while pulling at his hair. "THROW THE DAMN BALLS."

Urged into action by Auguste's urgent cries, I pivoted around and threw one ball at the countess, then the next. Before I could do anything else, a terrible blast shook the entire castle and a strong gust blew me off my feet. Once more I was projected against the hall's back wall. My head struck its hard stone surface and everything went black.

When I regained consciousness, I saw that the doors of the hall were open and that only a thin film of water remained on the floor. The next thing I saw was Auguste's concerned face hovering over me.

"Prince, are you hurt?"

"I don't think so."

With his help, I rose to my feet. Together we made our way to the center of the room where the broken, lifeless body of the countess lay amid a large circle of rubble.

To my astonishment, I saw that Milo, Khuan, and Lilloh were already there, waiting for me. My thoughts went to Eva. Seized by panic, I looked at the dais. All my fear vanished as I watched the king help Eva come down the drapery. I smiled, glad that the king had survived too. Eva had suffered enough loss as it was.

Milo rushed to meet me. "Oh my lord, I was so worried," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. By the look on his face it was relief. "My lord, do you need help?"

I shook my head
no
, but that didn't stop him from grabbing my elbow to straighten me up. I didn't protest; instead I smiled and asked him why he and the Anchin were here. Milo explained that Auguste had sent them word to come help us. Unfortunately, they didn't arrive quickly enough and were stuck behind the sealed doors.

Having regained my balance, I approached the circle of rubble. Pointing to the countess's corpse in its center, I addressed Khuan. "I thought you said gods couldn't be defeated?"

Khuan smiled. "Gods can sometimes be tricked, but never beaten." He cast a cold eye to the countess's dead body. "By no means was this thing a god. It was a minor water spirit, at best, worshiped as a god, which isn't unusual. I've seen it one too many times. Most supposed deities I've encountered turned out to be spirits in the end—that's when they were not demons in disguise. Real gods are much rarer."

"How can you be sure?"

Khuan shuddered violently. He looked positively frightened. "I felt the presence of a real god once. Trust me, that
thing
wasn't it. That creature wasn't powerful enough to be a god. That's why you won over it." Khuan paused, studied the ravaged room then added, "This thing was powerful nonetheless." His inquisitive eyes met mine. "Killing the countess was the right way to end this . . . the only way actually. She was the spirit's vessel, his conduit. With her death, this spirit lost all means of exercising its power here and was forced to flee. Good thinking on your part."

I shrugged. "I hardly had the time to think about it, really. It just felt right."

I looked down at the countess's body. A woman again, she still wore her dress and signature raindrop aquamarine pins. Three pins. I frowned. She had four at one point. I could swear she did. At the queen's funeral, just before the bear's . . . before Thalia's attack, I thought she had four then. And when I had first met the countess she wore only one pin in her hair. Then, only one princess was missing.

I kneeled down and touched the pins. They were pulsating with magic.

"Lilloh," I said.

"Yes. I can feel it from here," she answered, anticipating my question.

"One pin per princess . . . hm?" I looked up at Khuan. "What should I do? The wrong move on my part may end the princesses' lives."

"Do what your instinct tells you to do."

Carefully unhooking each pin from the countess's lapel, I laid them delicately on the floor; then I looked up at Khuan again. "You're sure about this?"