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Most people of Petroen accepted Aruela now; some even attributed the prosperity to the Earth Mother's blessing. Aruela was
happy, until two days before, when tragedy had struck; her sons had disappeared from the garden.
Aruela sat on her carved stone bench in the palace garden, under the gnarly branches of the Oracle tree, and watched the moonlight
dancing on the cypresses through her tears.
"The lake swallowed them," whispered the Oracle tree.
She gasped. "They would not go near the lake."
"The Dream Smith says they did."
Oh, it was terrible; the Oracle tree never lied. Not so the Dream Smith; he devoured wishes and spat out lies. Dwelling between
the interstices of realms, he traded lives for dreams. She began to wail, great sobs shaking her body. Etros and little Milor
had played in the garden two days ago. If the Dream Smith had enticed them near the lake, it was possible the lake had swallowed
them. Glancing at the clover-shaped birthmark on her arm, a mark shared with her sons, her heart constricted. She had used
her second favor in exchange for this bond with her sons. The birthmark throbbed, a rhythmic twin pulsing of two hearts. She
knew they lived. But where?
Aruela wiped her eyes. Tears lasted for only so long; hers had nearly dried to a trickle, but grief remained. It gathered
around her, coiling into anger. She jumped up and ran to the lake, cursing it. Dark water rippled as though mocking. Ever
since she had nearly drowned in one as a child and had been forced to use up a favor in exchange for her life, she despised
lakes. Cosseted between trees and lined by smooth gray stones, this one was small and deep. But if her sons were in there
…
"The Dream Smith can show you the way to them," said the Oracle tree. "He would accept for payment a year's worth of your
dreams."
"No, I must stay awake to find them," Aruela said. Instantly, a dream veil fluttered before her, ghostly and enticing, showing
her a memory of playing with Etros and Milor. Her heart ached and her eyes became heavy. Aruela swayed and covered her throbbing
birthmark with her palm, feeling the twin hearts beating. This was a powerful enchantment, reeking of treachery, for it was
able to affect her while awake. I must fight this. She stiffened her spine and brushed away the dream veil from her
eyes. There was another way.
She walked back to the tree and sat down, not on her ornate bench but on the ground. "Oh, Earth Mother, help me," she sobbed.
"I'm offering you my third favor. Help me find my sons."
The ground rippled beneath her, and Aruela placed her palms on the loamy soil. It parted a short distance from her, and a
red meerkat poked his head out. He began chattering at her, "Elemental breach; a first order violation."
He emerged fully from the burrow and shook himself. Roots and clods of dirt fell from his fur. "The Dream Smith hid a portal
in the lake, eek, eek, a terrible breach. I cannot reveal at whose behest, eek, eek, someone whose name I cannot utter, but
he's been paid in ten peasants' dreams for ten seasons."
"Oh, those poor men, to sleep so long," she moaned. "How will their kin fare?"
"They will not fare well, eek, eek, it's a powerful hex, traded with a sorceress, eek, eek, whose name I cannot utter."
Aruela frowned. Suspicion gathered in her soul, coiling like smoke from a dragon's fire. She was certain Queen Molessa was
behind the wicked deed. Who else possessed the power to command peasants into the Dream Smith's realm, and who else enjoyed
toying with men's lives?
"A portal, you said? Where does it lead?"
"Eek, eek, elemental breach, portals don't belong in lakes," said the meerkat. "No words to say location. Mother says, 'juxtaposition
shrinking'." Whiskers twitching, he gesticulated with small paws.
Juxtaposition shrinking. Whatever that meant it sounded ominous, as though the likelihood of retrieving her sons
was shrinking. Aruela stood up suddenly and ran to the lake. She took a deep breath and jumped in. Inky depths swallowed her,
chilling her to the marrows, but she felt her birthmark tingling. It spread to her entire body, and the cold water was no
more. Swirling light embraced her, and for a second, she saw Etros and Milor, but the light motes drove her past them, toward
a bright point.
Vertigo gripped her. Then she was thrown onto a grassy shore. A sudden and overwhelming urge to sleep came upon her.
Her eyes began to close, but then she remembered her purpose. She could do this, she could. The Queen didn't know that mothers
often stayed awake at night, nursing or comforting a cranky or ill infant. With an effort, she stood up and smoothed the folds
of her sopping dress.
The trees smelled odd and the air tasted different in the world in which she had emerged, but the yellow sunlight was
the same. By the sun's angle, it was early morning, Aruela judged, whereas evening had fallen in her world.
She walked as though part of her self had remained in the other world, but the rough stones of the path poking her bare
feet anchored her in this reality. She knew where they were, her tingling birthmark drew her down the path. A hundred
steps, just around the trees. Birdsong accompanied her passage.
There, a white cottage on a shore, a speck against the celadon water, peeked through the lush foliage. Her toes sank
into warm sand, glittering with crushed shells of pink, pearl, and ginger.
As she neared the house, the strangeness of it almost stopped her. It was built not of stone, mud, or wood, but some
smooth hard boards that could only have been created by alchemy. Fear gripped her heart, but she continued walking. Large
windows adorned the cottage, the size of which she had never seen on such a small dwelling. Her heart beat like a frightened
bird in her chest. Aruela pushed at one of the doors. Mute on oiled hinges, it swung open and admitted her.
They're here. She felt her sons' presence. The room was cool and steeped in hazy light.
"Melissa," she heard a vaguely familiar voice from across a spiraling staircase. "Feed the boys breakfast; I'll be back
by lunch." A door slammed. From outside came a rumbling sound like ocean waves smashing against rock. Aruela stepped behind
a drape and peeked out the window. A golden-haired woman was sitting in a strange chariot of angles and hard lines that spat
fumes. It disappeared faster than a hundred horses could run.
In the ensuing silence, Aruela heard a disgruntled grumbling, "If only the boys would eat, Miss Ariel." A husky woman
clad in a plain dress shuffled across the large room and, for a second, Aruela saw her profile. Queen Molessa?
Even without embroidered gowns and elaborately coiffed hair, she recognized her. She ducked inside a doorway and stood motionless,
palms perspiring, and wondered if lunch was something soon and how much time she had.
Aruela knew not what strange magic was conjured here, but she felt the danger and a sense of urgency.
Metallic clangs and the tinkling sounds of water reached her from the Queen's direction. Aruela took a deep breath and
gathered her courage. Quietly, she walked across the glazed tile floor, holding her breath, then across another chamber and
an alcove. She stopped at a door, lifted her trembling hand and shoved.
Joy spread in her bosom when she saw Etros and Milor sleeping. But oh, someone had cropped their beautiful blond hair,
so that it barely covered their ears.
"Wake up, Etros." She shook him gently, then leaned over little Milor's bed and picked him up. "We're going home." He
snuggled into her shoulder and continued sleeping.
"Momma," Etros said. "We are home."
"No," Aruela said. She noticed their strange attire, short baggy hoses over their legs, and Etros a blouse, but didn't
ask them about it. "We must go home," she repeated it like a prayer.
"Yes, Momma," Etros said. He stood up and took her hand.
Her sons didn't look back as they left the cottage and the seashore, but Aruela vaguely wondered to what island the lake
had deposited her. Etros walked beside her along the cinnamon path dappled in yellow sunlight, while she carried Milor. The
silken folds of her gown whispered of home, beckoning, and urging her to keep walking.
Relief filled her when they reached the gap in the woods. Aruela looked back and gasped. The world seemed to be shrinking.
Clouds, road, and trees paced her. She squeezed through fat leaves and ran to the lake. It glittered, a blue depth hiding
the portal.
"We must pass through a strange door in the depth," Aruela said to Etros. "Take a deep breath and hold my gown. Do not
let go." Then she pinched Milor's nose shut and jumped into the lake.
Light swirled around them, picked them up and carried them to a funnel. Milor opened his eyes and smiled, pudgy hands
holding tightly to her shoulder and neck. Then the light whirlwind pushed them up and up until they floated in the lake. Aruela
waded to shore, pulling Etros by the hand.
*****
By Aruela's request, King Mitros had ordered the lake buried, and she had also buried the strange garments her sons had
worn in that other place. Perhaps by the time they grew into Princes, they would forget that other place. She never asked
them about it for fear of anchoring the event in her world. For herself, she had saved only the memory of the path; the rest
she had given to the Earth Mother. For days after that, the Mother had spoken to her, mountains chuckling in sonorous resonations,
meadows whispering secrets, and trees and bushes humming half-forgotten songs. Then one day, Queen Molessa had shed her embroidered
gown and jewels, clad herself in a plain robe, and moved into the kitchen, where she began to browbeat the scullions.
*****
Queen Aruela walked on the seashore and watched Etros skipping ahead, Milor tottering after him. Enjoying the salty breeze
on her face, she fingered the sack of shells her sons had gathered. The sun was dipping into the sea, giving way to night.
A smile flickered across her face at the thought of Molessa, scolding her for returning the boys so late for supper.
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