It was a wonderful tale he told. It had enchanted castles sitting on mountains of glass, moist caverns beneath the sea, fleets of starships, and shining riders astride horses that flew the galaxy. There were evil alien creatures, and others with much good in them. There were drugged potions. Scaled beasts roared out of hyperspace to devour planets.
Amid all the turmoil strode the Prince and Princess. They got into frightful jams and helped each other out of them.
The story was never quite the same. He watched her eyes. When they wandered, he threw away whole chunks of story. When they widened, he knew what parts to plug in later. He tailored it to her reactions.
The child was sleepy. Sooner or later she would surrender. He needed her in a trance state, neither awake nor asleep. That was when the story would end.
. . . and though the healers labored long and hard, they could not save the Princess. She died that night, far from her Prince.”
Her mouth was a little round o. Stories were not supposed to end that way.
“Is that all? She died and she never saw the Prince again?”
“Well, not quite all. But the rest of it probably isn’t true, and I shouldn’t tell it to you.” Ian felt pleasantly tired. His throat was a little raw, making him hoarse. Radiant was a warm weight on his lap.
“You have to tell me, you know,” she said reasonably. He supposed she was right. He took a deep breath.
“All right. At the funeral, all the greatest people from that part of the galaxy were in attendance. Among them was the greatest Sorcerer who ever lived. His name . . . but I really shouldn’t tell you his name. I’m sure he’d be very cross if I did.
“This Sorcerer passed by the Princess’s bier . . . that’s a—”
“I know, I know, Ian. Go on!”
“Suddenly he frowned and leaned over her pale form. ‘What is this?’ he thundered. ‘Why was I not told?’ Everyone was very concerned. This Sorcerer was a dangerous man. One time when someone insulted him he made a spell that turned everyone’s heads backwards so they had to walk around with rearview mirrors. No one knew what he would do if he got really angry.
“ ‘This Princess is wearing the Star stone,’ he said, and drew himself up and frowned all around as if he were surrounded by idiots. I’m sure he thought he was and maybe he was right. Because he went on to tell them just what the Star stone was, and what it did, something no one there had ever heard before. And this is the part I’m not sure of. Because, though everyone new the Sorcerer was a wise and powerful man, he was also known as a great liar.
“He said that the Star stone was capable of capturing the essence of a person at the moment of her death. All her wisdom, all her power, all her knowledge and beauty and strength would flow into the stone and be held there, timelessly.”
“In suspended animation,” Radiant breathed.
“Precisely. When they heard this, the people were amazed. They buffeted the Sorcerer with questions, to which he gave few answers, and those only grudgingly. Finally he left in a huff. When he was gone, everyone talked long into the night about the things he had said. Some felt the Sorcerer had held out hope that the Princess might yet live on. That if her body was frozen, the Prince, upon his return, might somehow infuse her essence back within her. Others thought the Sorcerer had said that was impossible, that the Princess was doomed to a half-life, locked in the stone.
“But the opinion that prevailed was this:
“The Princess would probably never come fully back to life. But her essence might flow from the Star stone and into another, if the right person could be found. All agreed this person must be a young maiden. She must be beautiful, very smart, swift of foot, loving, kind . . . oh, my, the list was very long. Everyone doubted such a person could be found. Many did not even want to try.
“But at last it was decided the Star stone should be given to a faithful friend of the Prince. He would search the galaxy for this maiden. If she existed, he would find her.
“So he departed with the blessings of many worlds behind him, vowing to find the maiden and give her the Star stone.”
He stopped again, cleared his throat, and let the silence grow.
“Is that all?” she said at last, in a whisper.
“Not quite all,” he admitted. “I’m afraid I tricked you.”
“Tricked me?”
He opened the front of his coat, which was still draped around her shoulders. He reached in past her bony chest and down into an inner pocket of the coat. He came up with the crystal. It was oval, with one side flat. It pulsed ruby light as it sat in the palm of his hand.
“It shines,” she said, looking at it wide-eyed and openmouthed.
“Yes, it does. And that means you’re the one.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Take it.” He handed it to her, and as he did so, he nicked it with his thumbnail. Red light spilled into her hands, flowed between her fingers, seemed to soak into her skin. When it was over, the crystal still pulsed, but dimmed. Her hands were trembling.
“It felt very, very hot,” she said.
“That was the essence of the Princess.”
“And the Prince? Is he still looking for her?”
“No one knows. I think he’s still out there, and someday he will come back for her.”
“And what then?”
He looked away from her. “I can’t say. I think, even though you are lovely, and even though you have the Star stone, that he will just pine away. He loved her very much.”
“I’d take care of him,” she promised.
“Maybe that would help. But I have a problem now. I don’t have the heart to tell the Prince that she is dead. Yet I feel that the Star stone will draw him to it one day. If he comes and finds you, I fear for him. I think perhaps I should take the stone to a far part of the galaxy, someplace he could never find it. Then at least he would never know. It might be better that way.”
“But I’d help him,” she said earnestly. “I promise I’d wait for him, and when he came, I’d take her place. You’ll see.”
He studied her. Perhaps she would. He looked into her eyes for a long time, and at last let her see his satisfaction.
“Very well. You can keep it, then.”
“I’ll wait for him,” she said. “You’ll see.”
She was very tired, almost asleep.