Each maid was deposited in the hole made just for them. I shielded my eyes from the blazing energy as the queen and her magic first lifted slabs of rock, then welded them to the cavern face.
I didn’t really want to know where the energy came from.
She was welding rock, not metal… rock…
“Well don’t just stand there O lion, use your muscles for something useful! Help a lady out!”
Dutifully I stamped the nameplates, deposited at the foot of each grave in the side of the cavern wall.
Cold, the stone was soft, limestone, the kind that make caves like this possible. My hammer and nails made quick work, two nails for each girl, a brass nameplate to remember them by.
Brass has always been valuable. And it doesn’t corrode quickly.
The nails were brass too. Heh… you like the galvanic series? One of my blacksmith’s does, even if they don’t know it. They are a little soft, but this was limestone.
“Well my king, I didn’t suspect you to be the agrarian type, or perhaps you aren't.” My cute queen was talking to me. “But you have wittingly, or unwittingly, funded an impressive expansion in fruit demand. I do hope we win the war long enough to enjoy it.”
“What would you plan to buy with the economic proceeds?” I asked.
“I don’t know, maybe more mirrors” My queen responded.
Well royal oranges were perhaps a good stable job for farmers. Good for dentists too. I was fairly convinced my queen had a bigger plan for any gains she got from this development, she just wasn’t confident enough that it existed yet.
Nothing like work to bring closure to a tragedy.
“Why didn’t you want me touching the corpses?” I asked.
“Oh you can I guess… but it’s a good way to invite the dead back to our realm. They likely have a strong opinion about the two of us.” The queen thought for a moment. “That might actually be fun if we get bored after we win the war...”
We chatted absently about nothing as we walked back to the surface.
It was dark out, probably after midnight. I felt like I had been run over by a truck.
I wasn't hungry.
Well not really, I was a little hungry but I also felt a little sick.
There were no maids to fetch me my drink of water for bed.
De-Pheobe was not one of the dead.
But the royal bed felt warmer tonight.
_______________________________________________________________________________
It was the bedroom in Alabama, the home was from 1930.
I was in the hallway furnished with a potted plant and two side by side pews from a dismantled church.
The bedroom long and empty, the hallway longer, a plastic wrap brick floor pattern was curling up from the moisture that seeped in the garage door.
It was night. It was always night, I needed to get back to sleep, but I wasn’t going.
Why not?
The noises were quiet.
No frogs, no bugs, no traffic, no feral dogs.
Something big was around.
I looked down the long hallway, I walked to the next room where the older guests stayed,
I was a kid again, those were my young parents in one of their childhood bedrooms.
Gosh that must be awkward.
The door creaked open and I looked.
They were gone…
I walked down the hallway further, to the fridge, I can’t sleep there.
What about a chair? A chair in the dining room, I could sleep there.
No
The oil panting of the little girl was looking at me.
I can’t sleep there.
I slowly walked back down the hallway, to the room I belonged in, the door was hanging open. I looked
A seven foot tall troll with a clown mask.
It was clipping it’s toenails, each the size of a kitchen knife, on the bed.
My little brother was sleeping quietly on the lower cot, oblivious to the danger.
I watched in horror, the troll went to the bathroom. Only one door away.
Finally… my chance to sleep.
I curled up on the bed, I dared not touch the giant pile of toenails on the covers. They were sharp, they would cut me..
Besides, they were gross and I didn’t want to anger the troll.
I slept like a dog, one eye open. I watched the bathroom door as the moonlight from outside shone in from in between the curtains, everything was quiet.
I couldn’t sleep.
The troll clown returned grotesque and menacing, if I didn’t move it wouldn’t notice me.
It set it’s nail clippers down on the bed, near my feet.
I had to sneeze.
I tried to hold it.
The clown began to count.
“One Pinky toenail! Two Pinky toenails!”
What was the next toe called? This little piggy got none?
“One Grande Toenail!!” the clown laughed at it’s own joke. I didn’t get it.
“Two Grande Toenails!” The toenail was about the size of my forearm it could have chopped my head off.
I sneezed,
-________________________________________-
Wood morning!
Noo.. not yet...
I was in a cozy bed, and it was still dark…
I slid my arm under my soft gentle queen.
Life was always much better than dreams, but I am glad I have such dreams that I can appreciate life.
“I love you O Lion” she murmured without opening her eyes.
She had slightly stinky breath but I couldn’t be disgusted. It was cute.
I didn’t say anything, I just hugged her and breathed deeply.
I should just say I love her back, and quit thinking so hard. Just be the dumb meathead.
But I had waited, it would be awkward and forced now.
“Don’t think so hard.” wisdom again tried to rein me in.
I closed my eyes and relaxed.
I breathed deep.
This was feeling like a bad night of sleep.
I should thank that cute wine girl, she was making it easier for me to relax.
I needed a nickname for my now adorable Queen,
I couldn’t think of any.
Instead I pulled her close and we fell back asleep.
Or almost… I remembered something…
“Never toast with water.” Who had told me that?
“Never trust someone who does not drink.” Well I had heard that one in college and that one was silly.
“Never toast with water… it’s bad luck…” I didn’t know who said that…
Three days ago I had toasted the little kitchen girl with a flagon of water, De-Pheobe, She had disappeared next day… was she a pawn? D four?
CRAP I had doomed the poor little girl. As I had said I had would not betray her innocence, I had cursed her with whatever old magic the alcoholic who told me of the superstition had warned me.
Perhaps I had cursed myself.
“What’s wrong?” My queen murmured, There was the dimmest of light and I could see a soft glint in her eyes as they opened.
I gently placed my hands on her warm body. “Are you superstitious?”
“No, there is no such thing as consistent luck, all superstitions are rooted in divine providence.”
“Well I believe in things I do not understand… I worry I may have cursed myself, and your pawn…”
“How?”
“Three days ago I woke to get a drink of spring water from the mountains. And I toasted the servant who found me the water, with the very water they found.”
“So?”
“It’s an ancient magic I forgot. It identifies one of us as less than loyal.”
“It’s you O lion” The dove’s soothing voice was smooth and confident. “And that is as kings are, If you were properly loyal you would be a servant of a king not a sovereign. If you were loyal you would not be dangerous.”
“So you see it as self evident, not a curse or bad luck?”
“Sir lion of mine, If you were not wild and emotional you would not be a good king. I would write this off as your virile and spirited nature.” She brushed my face with her delicate hands, my face that needed shaving again… But it’s the middle ages, who cares?
This little queen was too blunt to be a women. I swear… some perverted old wizard must have adopted this persona.
I put the thought out of my mind, perhaps she was just not neurotypical. It made sense a proper queen wouldn’t be.
Perhaps she was as deviant as myself.
What am I talking about, I knew she was.
She lay back down her cheek on my chest. “Now take deep breaths, listening to you breathe puts me right to sleep O lion.”
“That’s so sweet of you to say…” I gently brushed the hair around her ear and complied. I sighed. She sighed in reply.
Something about her voice…
Despite everything I was lucky to be here, if only for a night.
No, I deserve more than a single night,
‘No quit thinking and relax’ People call that voice wisdom but it is evil incarnate.
This was going to be a long night.