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I crave to hear a familiar voice. Of Mother’s sweet lullabies or her tales of Jurtil. It would make this trek more tolerable, I think. “Tell me that story again, Mother. The one about the iypin.”
“We don’t have time for stories.”
I chew on my lower lip, almost forgetting myself and glancing back. “All we have is time up here.” We pass a bush that’s been stripped of most of its purple leaves. I snatch one dangling from a branch and bite into its succulent flesh, which coats my throat in something that resembles water, but not quite. I grab three more and stuff them in my pocket for later, fiddling with them as we trudge the last few handspans to the top of the dune. “It will keep my mind occupied, at least until we reach civilization.”
I sense more than hear her terminal sigh.“Alright… but just one more time…”
A smile finds me as she begins her retelling. It makes the journey tolerable, without any food or water left to slake my growing hunger. The sun's first rays sear my back but her story centers me, and we find an even pace to trek, the occasional footprint leading us in the right direction.
“There was a little golden iypin, in a little silver cage…”
“…kept by a little copper prince, in a little stone tower,” I echo, the child’s rhyme bringing me back to a place I thought long lost. Mother sits at the foot of my bed with her book of tales. She has read it so often that the spine is bent and the pages have yellowed. Some of them are even ripped, but she smooths them out as best she can. “But the little copper prince had a little wooden key he kept in a little cotton pocket at his breast…”
“Did the iypin know that he was trapped, Arie?”
“No, of course not. Because the copper prince made sure he wasn’t lonely.”
“That’s right.But that’s not how the story is supposed to go.”
“It’s not?” I ask, standing tall as I stare out at the vast expanse in front of me. Half of me is still in the warmth of my bed, marveling over the illuminated pages before Mother snaps the book shut.
“No. See, the little copper prince grew up and grew bored of the little golden iypin. He became more interested in dripir and wild likar, swords and magic, so one day, when the little copper prince was not so little anymore, he took the little wooden key out of his little cotton pocket and unlocked the little silver cage… and he let the iypin run into the big dark woods, alone.”
My voice quivers when I find it. “This is not how you told it before.”
“The iypin thought himself free. He had never smelled air so fresh and clean, or tasted the pure water that ran down from the mountain…”
I lick my lips at the idea.
The thought of mountain springs feels like a dream out here.
“After a long afternoon frolic, he settled into a spiny yellow bush to make his home and slept. But the barking of batlaz woke him suddenly, and holding their reins was the little copper prince, now a king.”
“The iypin recognized him?”
“Yes, my darling girl.”I can almost feel Mother stroking my hair, but there is no smile on her soft countenance.“Now hush, our tale is almost done.”
“Yes, Mama,” I hear myself say. I haven’t called her that in over half a lifetime, but it comes just as easily as if I never stopped.
“The big copper king had a crossbow with little golden bolts. But the little golden iypin didn’t notice how it was aimed at him. Nor did he mind the baying of the batlaz, straining against their master’s hold.
He only remembered the warmth of his embrace, and the hours they lay together in front of the hearth. He wanted to go back to the little silver cage and stay there forever.
The bolt flew true and pierced the little golden iypin’s heart.
And as he lay there, the blood seeping into the ground beneath him, he looked up at his old master with hope in his failing heart. His little copper prince would save him, he knew, even as death drew like a veil over his eyes.
With the batlaz still howling, the king picked up the iypin’s body and smiled like he always had when they were young, proud and benevolent. “A fine addition to my wall, you’ll make, my friend.” And the iypin could be no happier to serve his master.”
Tears are streaming down my face when I rouse from the telling. “That can’t be how it ends. Hetrustedhim!”
“Trust no one, darling.”
The iypin’s fate makes my heart heavy. And, as much as I want to heed her warning, I don’t know how much longer I can last on my own. “I have to.”
“I’m sorry, Mother…”
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