flower his mother had once brought underwater. It seemed to be called a rose and possessed sharp thorns. Could the same fragrance have come from a girl?
“The brothers said that women always drown underwater, even those who reciprocated their passion.”
Quo remained dutifully silent. His spiky tail peeked out from beneath the austere robe of the counselor.
It was worth searching for the creature that gave off that scent if it was mortal and could not survive underwater. And was it possible to rule here without sending the entire palace underwater?
Moran glanced at the cracks in the ceiling and walls where algae had sprouted. His servants were too fussy.
“Darunon wants to see you, but the situation is delicate.”
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t an underwater world, if he crawled into the palace, the building probably wouldn’t accommodate him. Not to mention the terror that would befall the courtiers.”
“Aren’t they the ones who sacrifice their youngest daughters to him?”
“But they themselves have never seen him, or they would have fled from this island where he is lodged like scalded men.”
“So bloody sacrifices suit them, but the sight of someone demanding them might shock them? Funny creatures, people! At odds with themselves in everything they do.”
“They have a weak nature, your naval majesty. They have to adapt to survive. Hence are all their fears, doubts, and inadequate behavior.
Moran grinned crookedly.
“It is a weak, cunning race,” he commented. “No match for us! Then their women are no match for us.”
He should forget about the delicate creature.
It is better to think of the sea monster. He pretended to be a god and began to speculate on people’s fears and ambitions. It was sacrificed to, asked for help and protection, and paid tribute. It was doing a fine job of running the country before Moran came along. You didn’t have to come here. Darunon had already taken control of the minds and feelings of the nobles of Aquilania. And the nobles depended on his will.
The path to the half-sunken ancient temple was paved with the skulls of virgins, golden offerings, blood and bones. A scarlet path stretched to the coast between thorns and mass burial sites. The people of Aquilania were too morally weak to rally and fight back against the bloodthirsty god. They could have killed him with fire, but they took no chances, continuing to nurse the slacker who promised them protection from the floods. He can’t even give them that protection. It was up to the king of the sea, not the monster who not so long ago had dwelt in the pyramid of the underwater kingdom and fawned before its king. Now Darunon has gotten cocky. Soon he will demand that half the country be sacrificed to him. It’s time to nail him. But other matters come first. First he must assert our power in the eyes of a people intimidated by years of sacrifice.
“Where have you been before?” Moran asked the former Viceroy in his thoughts. He was not to be blamed. He didn’t know Moran could read minds. And there was no point in telling him that the period of maturation in higher beings lasts much longer than in humans. Humans were already dying in their first century of life, while Morgens were only gaining strength. In the eyes of the people of Aquilania, an entire era had passed while one of the underwater princes had barely had time to grow up.
“What does Darunon want?”
“He only wishes to pay his respects to you as the long-awaited ruler of an underwater race close to his heart.”
Very high-minded! Moran grinned again.
“Let him wait.”
“Shall I tell him so?” Quo even trembled. He was afraid of being caught like a fly in a spider’s web in a half-flooded temple.
“Tell him I’ll come to him myself when I need him.”
Quo tilted his bald head obediently, fish scales growing on it. The elaborate peacock feather beret barely concealed his terrifying head. Let the courtiers think him an ugly and cunning cripple. It’s better than if they realize that as long as they live near him, they are literally in the claws of an otherworldly being.
“You may depart!”
Quo set aside a folder and a writing case with an inkwell and sharpened quills. There were traces of typhus and water all over it. No one was standing under the windows on the sea side, so they didn’t see the royal counselor crawl over the sill and climb down the arches, coiling his slippery limbs around them. As Quo crawled down the wall toward the sea, Moran played with his empty goblet moodily, wondering how Ariana would soon arrive to supply him with a new batch of the miraculous blue wine without which it was simply impossible to go on living in the lands of mortals.
Outside the throne room, laughing, a procession of maids of honor passed by. The blood flowing through their veins immediately caught Moran’s attention. He mentally beckoned to one of the girls, preparing to slit her throat, but changed his mind, remembering that the blood did not quench his subjects’ thirst. The pretty lady stood at the threshold of the throne room in surprise, not realizing how she had dared to come here uninvited. When the spell is broken, people usually don’t realize what’s wrong.
“Get out!” Moran shouted at the maid of honor.
She immediately realized he was angry and backed away. Her pretty face showed resentment. Better to be offended than to rot in her grave. Unlike his six flighty brothers, Moran respected human life.
The corpse of Lady Elisandra Quo was carried out of the palace on his ridge and dragged to the sunken temple. She would be recorded as another victim of the sea god. The relatives will find that comforting. Nothing can be done against the power of Darunon. If the Aquilanians don’t want to sink, they must pay tribute to him.
The Green Diva
The ghastly face she’d seen in the pond wouldn’t leave her mind. The nose of the gondola drew a smooth line of spray on the water of the narrow channel, and she saw the face of the green prophetess.
The gondola was luxurious, but without an inner cabin with a canopy in which to hide. She had to sit under the supervision of a page, who turned out to be a gondolier. He handled the oar very skillfully.
Desdemona was accustomed to see gondolas exclusively with a cabin, over which the canopy spread like a tent. Where else would noblemen hide from the servants if not in the closed cabin of the gondola? Apparently, it was to remain under the supervision of the gondolier’s page during the short voyage. He explained that this canal would take them straight to the house where her stepmother was staying. It was very unusual. There were no direct channels to anywhere. They branched off, flowing into others. It was hard to swim to the target. Sounds like a lie. But the narrow channel did wind in an endless ribbon, going forward. Daffodils and irises grew along the sides of the canal. The gilded face of a female jellyfish on the nose of the gondola squinted unkindly at Desdemona. Just like a living thing. Once it even seemed to wink at her.
The pageboy’s hands looked like toad’s feet with webbing between the fingers. Maybe he’s a freak.
“You’re
