Celephaïs: Secrets and Secretions

“I’m sorry and I fully realize that you have traveled for many weeks to reach Celephaïs, but the King is not receiving any visitors at this time.”

Most people would have wilted under the furious visage of King Babacar of Thalarion, but Chamberlain Mikhail of Celephaïs remained unmoved. In fact, in addition to responding to the increasingly energetic complaints in the same quiet, measured tone, he also remained physically unmoved from the center of the doorway, blocking the entrance to the Palace of the Seventy Delights.

The two muscular guards standing on either side of the door were relaxed, one casually resting her double-bladed axe on the ground as the other merely watched with one hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword. They were watching King Babacar and his retinue while simultaneously keeping an eye on the road leading to the massive rose-crystal doors that stood half-open. Apparently carved from single slabs of the semiprecious gemstone, every inch was covered with carvings of heroes and monsters cavorting across their polished faces.

“You have the audacity to stand in the way of the King of Thalarion!?” sputtered the plump, sweating man standing in front of the Chamberlain. “Move out of the way at once!”

He reached out as if to push the Chamberlain to the side but suddenly jerked back, whipping his hand away. The double-bladed axe that had been resting quietly on the ground was suddenly in front of him, blocking his way. If he had been a bit slower he probably would have lost his hand at the wrist.

“I am sure King Babacar is tired from his long journey. Allow us to offer the King the services of the Wisteria Villa to rest. Of course, every service that Celephaïs can offer will be at your disposal.

“After you have rested and recovered from your arduous voyage I believe King Kuranes will be able to welcome you as your noble station deserves.”

The plump courtier sniffed.

“The Wisteria Villa? Hardly fit for King Babacar!”

The Chamberlain merely nodded, his face impassive although he chuckled to himself. He knew full well that the Wisteria Villa, insignificant as it was compared to the Palace of the Seventy Delights, was still far more elegant and beautiful than King Babacar’s own palace in far Thalarion.

“My most sincere apologies for the inconvenience. I will have one of the servants guide you,” he continued, and gestured to someone inside the Palace.

A young man of about twenty, but still a page, stepped into the sunlight and stood silently.

“Teros, guide them to the Wisteria Villa, and ensure they their needs are met.”

The Chamberlain bowed once more and returned into the shadows of the Palace, leaving the page to lead the way back down the paved road. The Wisteria Villa was also located on the Pinnacle, but of course below the Palace itself.

The rose-crystal doors swung shut once again behind Chamberlain Mikhail. He sighed, shaking his head as he approached Chuang.

“These kinglets and petty nobles… they drive me crazy!”

Chuang chuckled.

“The smaller they are the larger they puff up, don’t they?”

Mikhail nodded.

“I could ask you where the King is, I suppose…”

“Yes, you certainly could,” agreed Chuang, “but I suspect you probably will not. Chances are I would refuse to tell you, as I have for the last dozen or so times.”

“Yes, I think you’re probably right. But at least you’ve admitted that you know where he is, as opposed to merely avoiding any answer at all.

“Can you tell me if he’s still in the Palace?”

“I do not see why not,” mused Chuang. “Not.”

“But he certainly didn’t leave by this gate, and no airships have called all day… hmm. There are a number of other exits from the Palace, of course, but that would suggest he felt he had to sneak out, which seems unlikely.”

“King Kuranes rarely sneaks, and I think I can say with certitude that he did not sneak today. In fact, I watched him leave, and he was quite animated, conversing in a perfectly normal manner with Commander Britomartis.”

“Ah, so he is with Britomartis!”

“I never said that,” denied Chuang. “In fact, I doubt she is with him now. As Commander of the King’s Guard, though, I am confident she is watching over him.”

He was correct in both statements.

 

* * *

 

She was standing in the doorway, looking down the stone stairs leading to the floor of the red-lit cavern. Wisps of steam floated in the hot air, partially obscuring her view of the King, who was just then gingerly making his way across the floor of the cavern.

He walked very slowly and carefully, moving one foot at a time and testing each step before he shifted his weight forward. He hardly looked a king at all, she thought, dressed as he was in a simple farmer’s tunic but with heavy warboots. His head was bare of crown, and the tunic sodden with sweat in the heat and humidity.

A section of the cavern floor, perhaps a meter by two in size, suddenly tilted up with a hiss to emit a sudden spurt of steam, fortunately away from the King. He ducked down at the sound, and by the time he’d turned to look at it, the floor had dropped back again, looking as permanent and immobile as ever.

To his left a small pool of lava bubbled quietly, spitting gobbets of fire every so often.

Forbidden from joining him, Britomartis watched his every move, her hand gripping her sword tightly, lifting it up a few centimeters from its sheath and then slamming it back again, over and over and over.

The King Kuranes finally reached the flat, hexagonal stone in the center, and stepped up onto it with a sigh of relief. He was safe, for now.

He knelt facing the sphere of rock standing solitaire in the center of the hexagon, and drew his knife. He drew it across the palm of his left hand, then pressed his bloody hand against the sphere. He grunted with the pain, and Britomartis was sure she heard his flesh sizzle from the heat.

The sphere slowly reddened, as if absorbing the King’s blood, and as it grew redder the cavern slowly darkened until she could only see the black silhouette of the King against the darkly pulsing blood-red sphere.

“Now, Britomartis. You may join me.”

She leapt to the cavern’s floor and raced to the King’s side, dropping to her knees next to him.

“My King! Let me help you.”

“Later, Commander,” he said, climbing to his feet with her assistance. “The basket.”

She handed him one of the baskets and together they began to search the cavern floor, torches held high.

Britomartis saw a glint and bent over for a closer look. Yes, there was the slug, torpid now that the cavern was cooler, its smooth, cylindrical body blotchy in shades of red and gray. It had no eyes, of course; eyes were of no use to it as it bored through the bones of the earth itself. Behind it stretched its trail. As a garden slug left behind it a trail of slime, these chthonian slugs instead left trails of gold, brought up from the unknown depths below.

She used her knife to pry it loose, and dropped it in her basket.

Within minutes the two of them had collected several kilograms of gold.

She glanced at the central sphere. It was still pulsing, but much slower than before.

“Only another few minutes, my King.”

“I know,” he grunted. “Come help me… there’s nice clutch here.”

She found him kneeling in front of a small pile of what looked like a cluster of grapes at first glance. They were almost round, in various sizes up to about three centimeters in diameter.

It looked like there were a few dozen of them.

The King was using his knife, trying to pry the cluster off the floor. It didn’t budge.

She joined him, jamming her sword into a gap and using it as a powerful lever.

With a crack the cluster broke free, and split into two chunks.

They quickly lifted the chunks—surprisingly heavy—and put them in their baskets with the gold they’d collected.

“Time to go,” said the King. He glanced at the central sphere: it was almost black, just a few dull strands of red yet swirling on its surface.

They hurried back to the stairs and up out of the cavern.

A huge belch of escaping steam and sulfurous gas hurried their feet.

They walked down the tunnel a few meters to a wood bench, and the King collapsed onto it.

Britomartis pulled out a vial and scooped up a dollop of the paste with her fingers. Reaching out, she grasped the King’s cut and burned hand, using her balm-coated fingers to pry his open, and spread the healing salve all over.

His breathing steadied and as she watched his hand sloughed off the blackened flesh to be replaced by healthy pink skin. She didn’t know what was in Master Chuang’s secret salve, but it was literally a life saver.

She handed his the canteen and he took a long drink.

With a sigh of relief, he finally pulled the canteen from his lips and held it out to Britomartis.

“Thank you, Mistress. That was one of the most delicious wines I’ve ever had.”

She giggled.

“It’s the table wine, my Lord. I filled it in the kitchen just before we came down.”

He smiled and shook his head.

“Well, I’m glad that’s over. Let’s see what we got, shall we?”

He pulled his basket closer and picked up the cluster of balls.

“A good-sized egg mass, isn’t it? And yours is even a bit larger I think…”

She nodded, and twisted one of the balls off the mass. With her knife she scraped the covering shell off, revealing a brilliant ruby.

“That’s a beauty!” she smiled, holding it up to the light. “I wonder what the rest are.”

The King picked up one of his own.

“Usually rubies and emeralds go together, but every so often…”

“We haven’t gotten a firestone for some time,” she said. “I wonder if they all hatch into those slugs, or different gems birth different creatures.”

“I’ve never tried to find out,” he replied. “I’m more concerned with whether any of the larger chthonians might come looking for those who steal their eggs!”

“Must it always be you?”

“Well, when I dreamed Celephaïs I knew that I’d have inexhaustible wealth: gold and gemstones. But I never actually thought about just how I’d get all that wealth… I’ve tried to find a different way to do it, and so far it has proven impossible to dream a different method. I only caused some dreamquakes, fortunately not serious in their effect.”

“Not even with Master Chuang’s aid?”

He shook his head.

“We tried. It’s beyond our abilities. Or just immutable.”

“There are things beyond even your capabilities!”

He laughed.

“Oh, my dear Britomartis. There are dreams within dreams within dreams, and nobody knows what reality may be, if it exists at all. Perhaps I merely dream that I cannot do it, and I could if only I could look at it from the outside.”

“The outside?”

“Outside the dream, of course.”

“You mean Wakeworld?”

“No, no. Not Wakeworld, or the Dreamlands, or any of the countless bubbles of reality. Outside.”

They fell silent for a time, until the King rose to his feet.

“Come, it is time to climb back up to the Palace of the Seventy Delights, where I must once again play the part of a King, and you a Commander.”

They lifted their baskets and trudged toward the endless stairs the led back up into the Pinnacle, and daylight.