“And who tried to tear the realm apart by creating a rift between son and father.” Tashih's eyes glittered with anger. “How shall we serve this upstart, Lord Wizard?”
CHAPTER 31
“Instead of justice,” Matt said, “we might do better talking about the security of the realm. From the sources I encountered, it seems this villain—Kala Nag, as she calls herself— has plans to conquer your empire and do away with both of you.”
“Therefore she began with my cousin?” Tashih asked, an edge to his voice.
“She seems to be operating according to some sort of prophecy that Balkis is one of a pair who can stop her conquests—but only if the two are joined.”
“That would be, of course, my niece and her mentor, yourself,” Prester John said grimly.
“If that's the case,” Matt said, “I can always be with you quickly, if you need me—and the threat this Kala Nag poses is scarcely immediate.”
Prester John shook his head. “It is wisest to deal with enemies before they feel ready to attack. Let us call up our army and march southeastward into barbarian lands, that we may besiege this quondam goddess in her lair.”
Matt sighed and set himself to planning.
Dinner that night was the usual ceremonious affair, with Prester John listening closely to a religious debate between a Nestorian prelate and a Greek Orthodox patriarch.
Anthony, seated beside Balkis, said little or nothing, watching wide-eyed and eating token mouthfuls, completely overawed. Balkis tried to draw him into conversation, of course, but he answered her questions with short sentences, not looking at her eyes. In desperation, she asked Prince Tashih if he had succeeded in translating any more of the poetry of Tu Fu and Li T'ai Po, and the prince responded by reciting several verses. That caught Anthony; he listened in rapt attention, but when the prince had finished, he said only, “They were masters. May I read more of this poetry, Your Highness?”
“I shall delight in having copies made for you,” Tashih assured him.
“I shall thank you deeply,” Anthony said.
“You already have,” Tashih replied.
Then the conversation lagged again. Finally Balkis was struck with inspiration. “I wish we could discover who polluted the fifth oasis, Anthony.”
“Do you?” he asked, startled. “Surely that is of no moment now!”
“A polluted oasis is of great moment to us,” Prince Tashih said, frowning. “We seek to guard the pilgrims who journey to us as best as we may.”
“We do indeed,” said Prester John. “Where was this oasis, young man?”
“In the midst of the Sea of Sand,” Anthony replied. “Our guide Panyat led us from oasis to oasis—he had traveled with a caravan the year before—but when we came to the fifth, we dared not drink the water.”
“Why not?” Matt asked. “What was wrong with it?”
“It was full of snakes.”
Suddenly he had their full atention.
“Snakes?” Matt asked. “What color?”
“They… they were black,” Anthony stammered.
“What matters their color?” Balkis asked.
“The has-been goddess who ordered our kidnapping calls herself'Kala Nag,' ” Matt explained. “It means 'Black Snake.'”
Balkis gasped and exchanged a horrified glance with Anthony.
“We shall have to ask of the pilgrims who came after you if it was still polluted,” Prester John said, scowling, “and if it is, we shall have to send a force to clear it. How did you endure without its water?”
“We came to an oasis Panyat did not know,” Anthony answered. “It was most strange, for whenever we sipped water, its flavor had changed.” He exchanged a warm glance of reminiscence with Balkis. She returned the smile, her heart leaping— but Anthony suddenly remembered at whom he gazed and looked away, seeming almost frightened. Balkis' heart twisted; she fought back tears.
“I have heard of such a pool.” Prester John tensed. “Though rumor has it that its flavor changes with every hour, not with every sip. Did you bathe in it?”
“Bathe?” Again Anthony glanced at Balkis in surprise, but quickly looked away. “Why—yes. Of course,” he said quickly, “we turned our backs and watched the desert while the other bathed.”
“Of course.” Prester John's eyes burned. “Know, young folk, that you have bathed in the Fountain of Youth.”
Anthony stared at him open-mouthed, then exchanged a brief, shocked glance with Balkis.
Prince Tashih's face lit up. “Majesty, we must go there without delay! You must bathe in it so that you may rule over us forever!”
“It would avail us nothing, my son,” Prester John said with a rueful smile. “We would not find it—no, not though we searched for the rest of our lives. The fountain reveals itself to very few and is rarely seen in the same place twice.” He turned to his niece and her escort. “Did you look back at the fountain after you had left it?”
“We could not,” Anthony said helplessly. “It was gone when we awoke.”
Prester John nodded with sad satisfaction. “And will not appear in that place for a hundred years and more, I suspect— if ever.”
“But—But why should it have revealed itself to us?” Anthony stuttered.
“Maybe somebody doesn't want Kala Nag to win,” Matt suggested, “and therefore wants Balkis to stay alive.”
“I think it just as likely that young Anthony is also destined for great deeds, Lord Wizard,” the emperor said, “perhaps even for the protection of my realm.” His look told Matt exactly from whom Anthony would protect the land.
“How can you think it is the fabled fountain?” Anthony protested.
“Anyone who drinks of its water three times without having eaten will feel as if he had dined on the finest meat and spices,” Prester John said. “After your bath, did you feel hunger or thirst?”
Balkis remembered their first night in the wilderness, and how they had felt no weariness nor thirst. She almost said so, then caught herself in time—her goal was to draw Anthony out, not to speak for him.
“Not for days,” Anthony admitted.
“It strengthened you amazingly.” Prester John nodded. “More importantly, you will discover that you will never be sick again, and any wounds taken in battle will heal very quickly.”
“But—But it did not make us younger!” Balkis protested in confusion.
“That is because you are already young,” Prester John explained. “Those who drink of this fountain grow older as any will—until they attain the age of thirty years. Then they remain thus as long as they live. Moreover, a person who bathes in that fountain, whether he be a hundred years old or a thousand, will regain the age of thirty-two.”
Balkis turned to Anthony and found him staring at her— finally. She kept her gaze locked with his as she asked, “Then we will age for some years yet, but grow no older than thirty-two?”
“Save in experience and, I hope, in wisdom—no,” Prester John said. He grew thoughtful and glanced at Matt. Matt returned the look with a glance loaded with meaning.
A protopapas said, “I have heard that the fountain appeared only to the worthy—”
“That is certainly not me!” Anthony burst out. “I am only a lowly peasant!”
“It would seem you are more,” the protopapas told him severely, “and to deny your destiny will lead to ruin, not only for yourself, but also for those whom you would have saved— for look you!” He raised a palm to forestall Anthony's objections. “When I say ‘worthy,’ I mean that the fountain appears to those who devote their lives to others, and whose destinies are so important to humankind that they must have longer lives and stay in good health for the full term of those lives, in order to benefit their fellows to the fullest. You have been given this miraculous bath not for yourselves alone, young folk, but for the good of us all.”