ACT I: Emissaire de loin

I first met the goddess at nineteen years of age.

She did not appear to us then as she presents herself now: monumental, invincible, inscrutable. At that time she wore the body of a mortal woman and I found her quite amiable and friendly in the days before her relations with our kingdom changed. Our first meeting remains clear in the mind as though it had occurred yesterday: I had just bathed and dressed myself after a rigorous morning lesson in dance and deportment when my royal mother requested my presence avec toute la hâte that she might acquaint me with a new ambassador. A pair of liveried servants escorted me not to the grand audience chamber of the throne room but rather to a small, secluded study on the third floor of the palace. I distinctly remember that I arrived short of breath, the corset of my bodice constricting uncomfortably on my chest. Mere moments to compose myself vanished in an instant as a servant opened the door. Queen Heloise, my handsome mother still regal in her middle age, beckoned me in with a wave of her handheld fan and I set my eyes upon the ambassador.

How shall I describe the messenger of the goddess? She stood as tall as I and I am considered above the average height for a woman; in heeled shoes she would have the advantage of many a man. Her complexion immediately struck me by its clarity; I remember that I could not guess at her age, for though she boasted the smooth skin, fulsome lips, and unblemished features of the youthful, yet her manner and poise spoke of ageless experience. Her delicate features and soft hands testified of a life that wanted nothing for comfort nor luxury. Most arresting of all were her eyes, large and liquid orbs of sable to match her raven locks and possessed of a warm depth that expressed the intensity of her lofty thoughts, and I am aware that I am hardly the only person, man or woman, to have lost myself in the sheer expanse of her gaze. When she walked her stride conveyed her in graceful elegance without hurry, gentle as a gliding swan in its lake, and the poet's words "vera incessu patuit Dea" fit her well. She wore an elegant scarlet bustle of a foreign style with long skirts which draped down to her ankles, in luxury quite unbefitting the servants of the gods, liberally scotched with satin and lace. Her presence carried an air at once august and yet warmly familiar as though one's childhood friend had become a finished lady after years of separation.

To my mother I drew a graceful curtsy and she welcomed me with a warm kiss on the cheek. Then she drew me by the hand to introduce this striking woman of genial air to me, or so I fancied at first. "Madame ambassador, may I present my daughter Summerlyn Katalina, Princess of Theraveria, Archiduchesse of Ile de Thierry, Marquise of Wurttem-Heimbourg, Comtesse of ..." and so on through my various titles of precedence as I struggled to restrain my expression from betraying my surprise. For those of you my readers unaccustomed to the diplomatic protocol, decorum demanded that an ambassador should be presented to me and not I to her; furthermore it is proper for a herald to give my titles to the emissary, and that she should give me hers on her card. For my own mother the queen to handle introductions could be interpreted as none other than an immense honor for this dignitary of the goddess. As princess and hostess I inclined my head in acknowledgement of the introduction. Then it became her turn and mother turned to me. "Summerlyn, this is Lady Renia Sundalicia, plenipotentiary to the goddess Merphomenee." The lady curtsied elegantly with perfect aplomb; Miss Manners herself could do no finer.

As I could not tarry for long, mother kept me just enough to fulfill the obligations of courtesy before I asked to be excused that I might resume my lessons. Lady Renia did not mingle with the wives of the other ambassadors to the court of Theraveria. Instead she preferred to dine in the solitude of her own room in the Foreign Gallery within the city, often with a guest present. Our paths occasionally crossed within the palace grounds during which she exchanged pleasantries with surprising warmth. She evinced great interest in the royal library, devouring books and reports alike with voracious abandon. Sir Merrimont Lachaveur, a cavalryman who figures prominently in this account, mentioned to me that she spoke at length with the various royal ministers regarding their departments, especially concerning matters of population, trade, and agriculture where she asked questions both broad and incisive. All, that is, except for matters pertaining to the army and the practice of religion, to which she displayed no interest.

I learned from the palace courtiers that the ambassador had arrived to pave the way for her goddess' entrance into Theraveria. To this end she planned the construction of a great portal named the Goddess' Gate outside of the city, the costs and labor to be supplied by our people. When I asked mother how she had come to us, mother told me that she and the king had both seen the goddess beckoning to them in dreams.

A fortnight after our initial introduction, on mother's suggestion I extended an invitation for Lady Renia to dine informally with me for Monday luncheon. As hostess I wore a conservatively-cut light blue blouse with long sleeves and elbow gloves, a matching calf-length white skirt, modestly dark gray stockings and low black pumps. Our luncheon being an informal affair, I wore no tiara or jewelry save for a simple signet ring. When the butler announced Lady Renia, I stood to receive my guest and invited her to share a table with me in the seclusion of the royal gardens, where tea and pastries could be served before the orderlies retreated to a discreet distance.

Lady Renia immediately favored me with a familiar smile as she curtsied. "Your Serene Highness honors me with this invitation." Two of my guards, uniformed hussars from the King's Own Cavalry, escorted us to our seats and pulled the chairs.

Genially I returned the compliment. "On the contrary, Madame ambassador honors us by adopting our fashions," I replied, and was gratified to see her smile widen. Lady Renia had donned a day dress embroidered in Theraverian fashion with artistic silver filigree worked along the hems and sleeves set against a highly contrasting dark cerulean dyed wool. Even her fingernails had been painted with expertly-applied turquoise polish and her cheeks reddened with a hint of blush. She had experimented with Theraverian dyes in her eyeshadow as well, although Renia applied a faint violet contour above her eyelids in cleverly subdued fashion rather than the bolder makeup favored by the ladies of the court. I felt inspired to lift a cup of tea for a toast. "To your health, Ambassador Sundalicia."

She accepted the toast and offered one in return. "To lovely Theraveria and its equally beautiful Princess Katalina."

I will not bore you, reader of mine, with the pleasant gossip that Lady Renia and I shared over tea and biscuits as regarding women's fashions in Theraveria and the surrounding principalities, save to mention that she showed great interest in contemporary formal shoes. We shared our opinions freely as topics turned to family and drifted to country, for conversation will meander like a slow river flowing unhurriedly to the sea. She gave her thoughts frankly to me. "A lady," so she remarked, "ought to wear her slippers as a statement. Subtly, of course; discerningly, yes; but conveying a message all the same to those with the wisdom to perceive it." I inquired of her home; she informed me that a queen reigned in her demesne, but of course the goddess ruled over all. We spoke of my father King Marchand, of mother, and of my younger brother Crown Prince Charlemont Hafarlin. "And do you not think it strange that a boy should inherit this kingdom over his elder sister merely by being born a man, as if it made him wiser?" Lady Renia asked with an innocent smile.

"I've no desire to reign in my own right," I replied, which was undoubtedly the truth when I spoke it. "A crown is a heavy burden."

"And yet your breeding and your education - to say nothing of native wit and intelligence - have well-prepared you to do so," Lady Renia rejoined. The former I could not deny, for it was true that my royal father insisted that I should be learned in the arts of statecraft and diplomacy. But a military and magical education was still held unseemly for a lady, whereas my brother had been commissioned as an honorary officer in the 4th Dragoons when he was twelve. "I am told that several princes have offered suit for your hand in marriage?"

The question caught me off guard momentarily. "Indeed, and my father must arrange a match to the advantage of Theraveria," I replied, keenly aware that the topic had strayed into territory teetering on the brink of impropriety for an informal luncheon.

"Ever the lament of a princess," Renia murmured in sympathy. "In the lands under the goddess' sway, women are free to wed for love, even she who inherits royal blood. Whom does your heart fancy? Your Serene Highness may entrust me with your confidentiality which I shall never betray."

I knew the answer to that question and her smile appeared so warm and genuine that I did not doubt her for a moment. "My childhood friend Sir Merrimont, but affection must needs yield to duty." Three years my senior and third scion of a minor landed esquire, Merrimont Lachaveur had matured into a dashing captain of the Imperial Guard. Renowned for bravery in the field and chivalry in the hearth to the point every maiden of eligibility seemed to have designs on him. Handsome gentlemen Theraveria possessed in abundance; Merrimont instead looked as beautiful as any girl, prettier perhaps than even me. And yet to be his wife would bestow no political advantage upon Theraveria, indeed would operate greatly to the detriment of a king no longer able to dangle the prospect of a political marriage to his rivals. Doubtlessly the diplomat seated across from me understood that.

Lady Renia stirred her tea with a spoon, bringing the utensil to her lips to sample the taste. "Does he return your affection? Would you consider the other suitors?"

I paused with a slice of brioche in hand. "Classe sociale est un mur entre nous. I am ... very fond of him, for he has been like a brother to me ever since we were young. But I am a princess and he a soldier in the Imperial Army, hence whatsoever affection he may feel for myself he is far too honorable to voice, nor would I wish to compromise him with longing for a woman whose station renders her unattainable. Is not the bond of propriety so very cruel, Mademoiselle Sundalicia?" Then I methodically named off my other suitors: kings, princes, dukes. Men of many years, men already married and known for infidelity, enemies of Theraveria ambitious to possibly place their own sons on the throne ... Lady Renia slipped my hand into hers across the table and murmured sympathetically as I unburdened myself to her. "Three successive wars in the past fifteen years have greatly weakened Theraveria. Our soldiers have fought five great battles in that time," I informed Lady Renia, "and emerged worsted in three, the latest a scant year ago which left six thousand dead, another thirty thousand hors de combat, and the dignity of the nation tarnished by defeat. The crown has emptied the treasury of nearly twenty million thalers in these conflicts and the people are wearied of war."

"And by the terms of a leonine peace, Theraveria ceded a populous province rich in mineral wealth and strategically situated for trade, was made to bear a further indemnity of eight million thalers, and must provide forage and provender for Brabant's further wars of conquest. All while diseases winnowed the army and opportunistic neighbors greedily eyed her remaining lands. A heavy price indeed to pay that she might conclude a war she neither desired nor provoked," Lady Renia said as though continuing my own thoughts. "How odiously wasteful such conflicts prove! In the lands where the worship of the goddess holds sway, warfare is forbidden and she directly adjudicates feuds between nations herself, giving wisdom to the monarchs and prosperity to the people." She then discoursed at length upon the many advantages enjoyed by the principalities and domains ruled by the goddess Merphomenee. As she described it, want and privation were unknown in those lands; the citizens feared no conflict; the blessings of the goddess staved off sickness; and she kept the climate mild. Each year the harvest was always plentiful and certain, devoured by neither hail nor locust, and a grateful populace sent its envoys to bring tribute to their benevolent deity. So gracious was Merphomenee that she would even decline the offerings she judged insufficient and return them. The ambassador of the goddess painted a picture of a golden age in which her people lived. What a fool I was, to believe the truth in her words without sifting them more carefully for the heinous lies that they concealed!

So fascinating did I find my companion's conversation, so charming her intellect and so all-embracing her knowledge of worldly affairs that we spoke nigh on two hours and still parted with the greatest reluctance when propriety demanded that our respective duties could be deferred no longer. Despite our differences in age, with Lady Renia near ten years my senior, we quickly became companions and confidants. Within a month she brought books for me to peruse at leisure. She paid assiduous attention to high fashion in Louelle, carefully observing how the great ladies of the court dressed, and became the progenitor of a trend of her own when the weaving guilds of Louelle hastened to imitate her Illyrican style. By this time we addressed each other on first-name basis when alone, maintaining a facade of decorum in the public eye.

One evening she entered my bedroom, escorted to the door by my maidservants. "I brought more reading for Your Serene Highness," she confided to me, whereupon my maids placed a number of tomes upon my desk stand. After they had withdrawn with genuflections and closed the door, Renia seated herself behind my cushion and began to brush my hair. At the time I wore my blonde tresses down to my waist when my hair was not tied. Renia fingered a few strands as she brushed slowly and carefully. "What lovely hair you have! How I wish to see myself wearing it," she sighed wistfully as she worked.

"Thank you, Renia. I wash it every other day with aloes and crushed alum mixed in a little honey. The court alchemist rendered his most solemn assurances to me that it is guaranteed to produce a shade of hair en vrai or. What books have you brought today?"

"A primer on transformational magics, a popular novel written by a fin de siècle author on the Allemagnian nobility, the Comte de Vaubrois' treatise on mercantile policy for nations without a navy, divers collected letters written by King Laudamais - I am told he was the greatest ruler and lawgiver of Brabant - and Monsieur Jelloit's first play, The Gilded Birds of Wind-Upon-Avenlee. And a few more essays and books of interest. A princess must be clever, witty and sophisticated, Summerlyn my dear, and I hope my selection will help expand your mind. I know you are well-occupied by your lessons in riding and dance and singing, but please have some of these works read to you as you are able."

I tilted my head to let Renia untangle a skein of hair which had knotted up. "Could I prevail upon you to accompany me on my rides and read to me?"

"It would give me great pleasure to do so, Summerlyn, but diplomatic functions and the necessity of constructing the magical gate demand my attention. Perhaps after the goddess has crossed the threshold of this world we may have more leisure to spend on such diversions. The goddess will have no further use for me once she steps through."

That last sentence gave me pause. I turned to look up at the emissary's face. "Why do you say that, Renia? Surely she would require ambassadors to all the nations surrounding Theraveria?"

"I would not reuse this vessel when the goddess has many eligible bodies to choose," Renia mentioned cryptically. After a few more moments spent in small talk she departed my boudoir, leaving me with the books and her puzzling words weighing on my thoughts. That night I felt too weary to read through the books brought to me, so five days passed before I found a note concealed between the pages of a codex as I leafed through the tomes. Written in Renia's elegant hand, it requested me to clandestinely invite her after hours for training in the magical arts. Reader of mine, can you imagine how my stomach churned and my head fluttered upon receiving this note? She ought to have petitioned the king to permit her to teach me such arts; in my hand I held unmistakable proof of sedition, enough to warrant expelling her outright from Theraveria. Sensible to the possibility of its discovery, I immediately burned the card after committing its content to memory.

A few days after the summer solstice, we both attended the same ball to take place on the hors de la ville estate of the Duc d'Estang. For many a young lady of high social standing in Louelle this ball ranked as one of the most anticipated invitations of the year, for the Duc belonged to an exclusive social assembly whose membership was restricted to those who could afford the high fees, maintain the stringent wardrobe requirements, and possessed the necessary leisure time to devote to the highly technical dances. Being commonly considered a momentous opportunity to meet suitors equally young and very rich by beauteous young maidens of impeccable pedigree, competition for one of the limited invitation slots oft waxed fierce. After all, in the words of the novelist: "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must in want of a wife." - this thought being fixed so firmly in the minds of the daughters of the aristocracy as to be considered common property, or indeed common propriety. To debut in an event of such exclusivity instantly elevated any girl nearly to the head of the social season. Having become an eligible lady myself at the acceptable age of sixteen I had been invited every annum since my debutante ball, often half a year in advance of the actual event. Lady Renia's invitation by contrast must necessarily have been a recent one.

Rigid etiquette governed every behavior at the ball from choice of escort to who could partake of which refreshments, extending naturally of course to a princess' wardrobe. Girls being introduced to formal society were required to wear long white gowns with floor-length hems and white satin elbow gloves; in contrast, dress decorum for a non-debutante such as myself demanded dark colors, although white or gold would be accepted as an accent in my dresses. The royal treasury had spent nearly four hundred thalers for the five dresses and five pairs of shoes I would need tonight, commissioned months in advance from some of Louelle's most prestigious dressmaker's shops. In Theraverian tradition a girl is permitted as a concession to practicality to re-use her dresses provided they were previously worn to a more prestigious dance - as such I expected to see a few of my coterie in the dresses they had worn to my debutante fete. My escort, M. Fonteaubleau the brother of the king, arrived at evening in a drawn carriage to take me to the event.

As one of the wealthiest aristocrats of Theraveria, the Duc d'Estang's estate sprawled over much of the countryside north of the city. The front gardens spanned several furlongs of impeccably maintained topiary bushes and flowers, easily dwarfing the royal gardens in the city for sheer breadth. Broad lanes of paved cobblestones allowed our coaches to be drawn through the wide gates and right up to the grand entrance of the mansion, a sprawling manor some three stories in total with a classical-style face and ornate double doors atop a dais of twelve marble steps. The Duc and Duchesse d'Estang stood at the top to welcome each invitee upon arrival, the Duc greeting me as "Princess Katalina" with a bow and his wife embracing me. The roses and dahlias outside had bloomed to full, filling the air with a pleasant fragrance from the gardens.

Escorted by Uncle Fonteaubleau, I encountered Lady Renia inside the manor where she had arrived earlier on the arm of her companion. She wore a tight, dark red Theraverian evening gown with a low cut neckline and a silver sash draped over one shoulder to her hip, a necklace of garnets prominent on her bosom, matching earrings, and I surmised a high pair of slippers from the way her feet clicked on the floors. I admired her effortless elegance for a moment and waited until she had finished her current conversation before I stepped up to her. Renia immediately dipped a polite curtsy. "What a lovely lily Your Serene Highness wears tonight," she smiled, seeing the flower braided into my hair, which she had asked me to wear as a signal that I accepted her invitation to learn magic from her.

The interior of the mansion contained every luxury known to Theraverian high society, filled with expensive wooden furniture carved from all kinds of timber. From the spacious main foyer a grand staircase with ivory balustrades led above to the upper floors. I paused to admire the duke's collection of Classical-era art, expressed in marble sculptures and oil paintings which lined the walls. Candlelight glittered off a thousand tapers set into the ornate glass chandeliers above, and some of the cerulean carpet beneath my feet clustered so thickly that I had trouble keeping balance in my heeled slippers. I knew my way around this manor from previous visits, noting however that the upholstery had been replaced since last year's dance with even more lavish decor. Walls of oak separated each room from the next, most of the walls being unpainted so that the natural grains of the wood enriched the interior with earthen brown. The wide ballroom on the first floor contained enough space to comfortably fit all of the dancers and boasted a floor of spruce hardwood. This early, even before all of the invitees had arrived, the orchestra had already set up in one corner and begun playing music. Liveried servants carried refreshments around on pewter plates and silver trays, politely offering fruit punch or bite-sized chocolates for consumption. The ceiling on the dance floor rose nearly twenty feet high and the great glass windows had been opened to permit a fresh, soft breeze to blow through, spurred by the efforts of a dozen conjurers whom the duke must have hired for the evening. The scent of perfume mingled with the scents of pine and maple as well as the aroma of roasting meat and baked fruit pies; I found the entire place most agreeable, and I saw Lady Renia drink in the details as well. "What a lovely, lovely house," she murmured in an almost melancholy fashion. "I must remember to visit this place again." The entirety of the interior design flaunted luxurious elegance in both quantity and style. Stepping out to the back porch, one observed a small stone-tiled pool, a large fruit orchard, and of course the stables and vast grazing fields where the duke kept his prize horses.

Lady Renia watched the procession of the event with great interest, this evidently being her first invitation to a debutante ball of such high status. At the commencement of the party, the host and hostess initiated the festivities by dancing the minuet alone on the floor in the presence of the entire assembly. Together the Duc and Duchesse d'Estang breezed through the difficult, technically-demanding dance, as I knew they would. I wondered if Renia knew the intricate steps involved in the minuet, challenging enough even without the high-heeled burgundy satin slippers she wore. Once the duke and the duchess parted, the debutantes filed together for their formal introductions to high society.

Each girl held a bouquet of white roses in one hand and walked to the center of the dance floor on the arm of her escort as a herald announced her name, the names of her parents, any titles she might possess, and any accomplishments which she wished to have represented before the assembly. Fourteen debutantes had been invited this year and I knew all of them by connections in noble society except for a beautiful young girl with lovely chestnut locks who turned out to be sponsored by the Salon de Rue d'Hiver, an influential house where the leading intellectuals of the day often gathered. Upon being presented the girl curtsied formally in three directions to the assembled visitors, accepted their applause, received a silver tiara from the host, and withdrew with her escort.

Once formal introduction had concluded, the men of the escort stepped onto the floor led by the Duc d'Estang and invited the young ladies to dance. This number belonged exclusively to the debutantes and their escorts alongside the host and the hostess. "It is a chance for the girls to display the dancing skills they should have acquired in preparation for their introduction to high society," I whispered to Renia. "See how gracefully they pirouette!" We adjourned for refreshments afterwards and received our dance cards: a booklet containing the names, times, and music for all of the planned dances for the evening, bound with a convenient cord that I could loop to attach to my ball gown. Per ball etiquette my first dance would be with my escort, M. the brother of the king. Afterwards I would be invited to dance by other gentlemen and a host of rules governed who could invite whom - for example, being the daughter of the sovereign, it was expected that no men of lesser rank would presume to proposition me, unless if a male relative of mine specifically introduced him and requested that I dance with him, hence why I had reserved the presence of M. Fonteaubleau. A lady would never ask to dance with a man, only receive invitations, though of course any sensible girl knew how to convey her interest in a discreet fashion. A lady who did not wish to dance with a particular man did not say no; rather she explained that she had penciled in another man for that dance, or that she intended to sit that dance out - and if she did not have another man written on her card, she had best find one! Conversely, a gentleman did not press a lady if she declined and simply accepted her decision with good grace. Nor did gentlemen or ladies sit out often, the purpose of the ball being to mingle in chaste fashion.

I danced from resumption of festivities, having to change through several ballroom gowns during the evening but carefully keeping the lily in my hair unspoiled. Renia danced too and in my opinion she danced passably well for someone who had so recently arrived in Theraveria. The formal dances concluded three hours after midnight and a princess could not be expected to participate in the less dignified country dances; still, I lingered another hour to enjoy the duke's generous refreshments and to hold pleasant conversation with many a handsome gentleman. You may infer correctly, reader of mine, that I felt acute reluctance to depart from that convivial atmosphere with its excellent company. Now that the memory of past Louelle fades, I am yet more reluctant still.

The next night I crawled out of bed and opened the doors to the outer balcony after my maidservants had extinguished the candles and taken their leaves. The balustrade rose up to my waist, separating me from a dizzying fall to the cliffside below. The royal bedchambers were located in the most secure part of the castle by design, the sheer verticality of the walls and the jagged cliff faces ensuring that no assassin in his right mind would dare scale the exterior. From my vantage point I had a clear view in daytime to the city of Louelle below and the surrounding countryside beyond, criss-crossed by cultivated fields of grain and orchards full of fruit in the summertime. The cool breeze of the night meandered through and kissed me in passing. Far below, the broad expanse of the Carbannes River glittered under the silvery moonlight as it placidly flowed past Louelle. At this hour the streets had been deserted by all but coaches and footmen. Beggars rarely appeared in the city.

Louelle, Louelle, lovely capital of Theraveria, how might I describe your lost wonders for those who shall never behold them? Founded more than a thousand six hundred years ago as a mere collection of villages, you rose from your humble beginnings to become the center of the Kingdom of Theraveria when the Luvian Empire fractured into ten squabbling principalities. The Age of Steel transformed your humble thatched cottages and provincial farmers into a city of brick and soldiers. Fourteen kings ruled your walls and lands, each leaving the city grander and more splendid than the last. From the Classical Revolution you were reborn anew as a city of stone and marble, your dusty paths giving way to the wonderfully wide streets lined by beautiful trees that were the marvel of Europan engineering just as your edifices excited the envy of Europa's architects. The great mind of Lucien Anne-Thierry seized upon the theories of modern alchemy in the halls of l'Université Venteuse, from the tranquility of Carbannes' gladed shores Ricard Leclerc composed his magnificent symphonies, and the marble sculptures of Placide Aguierre and his disciple Montevenue may still be found sprinkled throughout your roads. In my own lifetime you opened no less than two museums, a city garden, two military academies, a university, schools innumerable, odeums, theaters, markets, banks, salons of debate, and circuses; I was a girl of ten when I accompanied the king to the dedication of L'auditorium Populaire, grandest of all opera houses ever to open on our continent. Within your limits no fewer than four hundred thousand named you home. To your markets the world brought its commerce. And though our beloved nation suffered greatly in the Brabantine Wars during my lifetime, they never sullied the luster of your splendor - more than a mere city, you dignified Theraveria with a cultured soul.

This beautiful metropolis with its gleaming white edifices shone during the day and slumbered peacefully at night. Louelle did not boast the lively nighttime marketplaces of other cities; its distinctive nocturnal activity is the evening ball, often lasting until the rosy hours of the morning, and even citizens of the middle classes could expect to attend many in their lifetimes. The legacy of the Brabantine Wars had brought a militaristic bent to the city; it was no longer uncommon to see soldiers bivouacked within its walls or marching through the streets, though officers of different nations often dined in the many shops and cordially saluted each other upon entry or egress as though the Classical Revolution had not passed. Influential women still played hostess to intellectual salons and I shall later relate events concerning one. From this city came all the luxury that a princess could ever hope to covet: fine silk dresses skillfully woven by the seamstress shops, carved wooden furniture from the woodworking guilds, jewelry of all precious stones in the distinct Theraverian style, leathers and caparisons and velvets and satins and lace and gold and dolls all found skilled artisans in Louelle. I tell you this, reader of mine, that you may understand that some works of beauty are destined only to appear but once in the history of the world, and that when they are obliterated there may yet remain a memory of them that lingers. Simulacra which hearken to their legacy shall in due course arise to supplant them, but an intangible essence of their identity has departed forever and their artistry shall exist no more. Le corps reste, l'esprit s'en va.

I did not expect Ambassador Renia to suddenly materialize at my side as I gazed down at the city. "What a lovely sight," she sighed as she joined me.

I nearly screamed from the surprise. "Whence came you?!"

"Why, I employed magic, my dear Summerlyn," Renia smiled. The moonlight sufficed for me to clearly distinguish her facial features but I had to look up for I had walked outside in only fur-lined slippers while she still wore an elegant evening dress, a pearl-encrusted stole, and high pumps. I knew she had been invited to a celebration hosted that very night by a distinguished ducal house. How had she excused herself to appear here? A few diamonds glimmered faintly on her earrings. "My dance card is empty at this time," she informed me as though she had guessed my thoughts. "Nonetheless I must return in time to entertain a marquis at the midnight dance, a most authoritative gourmand but wanting in conversational sophistication. For that I much prefer Your Serene Highness." She pointed out the rooftop of the elaborate manor in the nobles' quarter, awash in torchlight though too far for the strains of music to reach our ears. "I have not enjoyed a view from such a vantage since I first arrived in Louelle," she murmured wistfully.

"Does it please you, Renia?" I asked diplomatically.

"It pleases me more to see the city up close, to ride through the streets in a carriage and enter its cafes with my own two feet. Lest I sound too sentimental, know that I rarely have the opportunity to indulge in such simple pleasures." Renia turned to look at me. "But you did not summon me for idle gossip. Magic. I am given to understand that you have an education in this matter, Summerlyn?"

"A rudimentary one. The arts of the mystical and the occult are deemed improper for a lady of rank, especially a princess - although such considerations did not give pause to the Comtesse de Rouillart," I mentioned, naming the famous hostess of the Salon de Rue d'Hiver.

"... I see. It is with the greatest diffidence that I venture to contradict the opinion of courtly propriety," Renia remarked dryly, her voice that of a woman expressing a polite thought she clearly did not harbor, "yet I insist otherwise. This deep and ancient art, so breviloquently condensed to the indecorous word 'magic', is nothing less than the primeval language by which creation is shaped. It is true that a mortal cannot match a goddess in potency or understanding, but why should she not dip her toes in the fountain in which a divinity bathes? Come Summerlyn, I shall teach you what I know and you shall be educated no less than the finest mages of the court." Renia slipped her fingers into her bosom and lifted an object which she held out for me to inspect.

Unaccustomed to its size, I did not recognize the animal at first, but when I did I gasped aloud. "Is that ... an elephant? How minuscule! Did you do this, Renia?" One might well have forgiven me for thinking it a mouse at its stature.

Perhaps my unabashed glee at seeing the works of her hands caused her to drop the last mask that she wore. "Summerlyn, may I entrust you with a secret? Promise me you will breathe no word of this to aught else?"

"But of course! As if a clandestine meeting to study magic was not precarious enough." The adorability of the shrunken elephant could not be resisted and I stroked its back with a single finger, giggling when it trumpeted gamely in a diminutive voice.

She leaned over and whispered into my ear. "My name -

- is Merphomenee."

ACT I: L'élève de la Déesse

Summer passed idyllically in Louelle as I studied magic under the tutelage of the goddess Merphomenee. To the world we were merely formal acquaintances with common interests, Renia Sundalicia and Summerlyn Katalina often being seen together in the city. In the public eye she observed protocol and propriety with immaculate rigor, always careful to address me as "Your Serene Highness," or "Princess Katalina." I remember writing an unusual number of letters that year to keep correspondence with Merphomenee and various other busy ladies of the court, not to mention my suitors and certain other men to whom I owed the duty of missives such as M. the brother of the king. The social obligations of a princess weighed upon me too; there were endless balls and receptions to attend in honor of this general, that visiting prince, the other dignitary, few of whom held my attention the way that Merphomenee commanded. With her striking appearance and sophisticated conversation she dominated the concern of many others besides myself, rarely failing to leave an impression on those with whom she held forth. I look upon that season fondly as one of tremendous activity. In the mind and in the social circles of Louelle, fertile seeds had been planted.

Whatever may have transpired between us later, Merphomenee showed me great kindness in those days. She never took advantage of me in private - though she occupied the body of Renia Sundalicia, a mortal vessel could not hope to contain more than a small portion of her true might, yet that portion alone lay beyond ordinary ken. She instructed me with great patience, carefully teaching me by experience rather than by rote, and she never raised her voice to me in the long hours that we labored in solitude. In this matter I must confess that I displayed no special aptitude for the arts of the arcane. Princess Summerlyn proved a student of ordinary ability and understanding, but I did learn and my progress by the end of summer satisfied us both.

Her very first demonstration began by immersing me in magic akin to the eagle who teaches its eaglets how to fly by pushing them out of its nest. That night under the moonlight on the terrace outside my bedroom she bid me permit her to rapture my spirit away; she would bring my soul into herself. I felt a great deal of trepidation at the thought, understanding that my speech and my actions would no longer be my own, yet I acceded to her request. Words fail to adequately convey my experience. The goddess plucked me away like a torrent of water overtaking a small brook; in an instant I felt power beyond all expression immersing me from head to feet, like an ocean straining against my heart. Louelle receded from me and I saw the world from the goddess' vantage. I perceived the castle on which I stood as merely a child's feeble mound of sand, certain that I need but turn my hand to scatter its stone to the winds. I loomed over a city akin to Louelle, so fragile and delicate between my feet, resting my knees on mountains as my head pierced the empyrean firmament. With eyes beyond mortal clarity I gazed into the homes of men in complete comprehension, all movements and speech by every mortal within my sight laid bare in a terrible instant of perception. Merphomenee took my spirit for a mere tick of the clock - and yet, when I became myself again in the next heartbeat, an eternity of the most profound existence had passed.

Had I felt less delirious at the touch of divinity, I might have caught the terrified expression on the brow of Renia Sundalicia in the moment ere Merphomenee claimed her as vessel again.

I had tasted a sip of a draught at once more profound, more intoxicating, more enriching than any viand of the vine. During that summer Merphomenee would teach me the ways of the wind by transforming me into a bird and flying with me at night, or submerge me in water as a fish, or clothe me in the skin of the wolf. I learned by living, the best of all teachers, and grew to understand the deep mysteries of magic having experienced them firsthand. She did not immerse me into her own divine magnificence again, which I oft regretted. "It is something I would not do willingly," Merphomenee explained, "for I must vacate the flesh of Lady Renia to do so, and it exacts a toll even upon me to claim a mortal vessel so far from my presence, across the chasm of the worlds." That was the first time the possibility opened to my mind that there might exist other realms and worlds beyond my own, as in the fantastical novels when a young man opens a book to find himself in the kingdom of the fairies.

Naturally I learned more about my divine teacher and her world. Merphomenee said that she stood of great stature, so monumental that her smallest finger would dwarf me, and that her head would tower over the tallest parapets of our royal castle. To illustrate since I could scarce conceive of how the world might look at that size, she shrank my bed down until I could hold it in the palm of my own hand. I understood then why she took great pains to explore the city thoroughly on foot, since at her true size she would be unable to enter any of our buildings and see for herself the sights within, hence the necessity for her to use a mortal vessel as her eyes and ears. Merphomenee said that she wished to visit a different building in Louelle every day. Her great proportions had disadvantages, of course: she could not ride a horse as I did, and it took time for her to acclimate to a body that she inhabited during which she had to learn how to dress herself, write letters, and bear the limitations of her flesh. She claimed to have hired a master to give her lessons on Theraverian dance as one of her first acts in Louelle.

Not all approved of Merphomenee's interest in my education. My own dear mother the queen remarked that it was all well for a princess to learn ciphering and finances for she must manage the expenses of the household, but unladylike pursuits such as politics or natural philosophy would only fill my head with dreadful absurdities such as peasant emancipation and distract me from the far more important feminine graces of hostessing a party or bestowing my coquettish charms upon men. "Some kingdoms do permit a daughter to rule in her own right, Summerlyn dear, but we Theraverians are civilized people!" she would exclaim in scandalized horror. On the whole however, it must be adjudged that more of the court expressed approval than the contrary of my studies, though the wisdom of employing a foreign tutor was questioned. Sir Merrimont once warned me to be on guard lest Renia harbor a secret agenda, "not knowing the inner significance of her deeds from the outer" in his words.

In the lateness of the harvest season, when the fields had been gleaned and the verdant leaves of the trees turned to autumnal reds, the first word stirred that the Brabantine armies were mustering again. Merchants newly arrived to Louelle from the south spoke of horses being herded, muskets being issued, conscription notices and military requisitions. Ominous tidings in the diplomatic sphere soon confirmed that the steadily heightening tensions between Brabant in the south and the Allemagnian principalities to the west might escalate to war. The king entertained the ambassador from Brabant and the ambassadors from the nearest Allemagnian demesnes unusually well that month. He also spoke with Merphomenee in the guise of Lady Renia, who urged him to proceed without delay with the construction of the grand magical gate and the tremendous expenditure of arcane power necessary to open a way for her. "Warfare shall be no more than an unpleasant memory of the past once the goddess sets foot in Your Majesty's city," the emissary promised him. "Her power suffices to enforce peace over the entire world, and I pledge in her name that she shall guarantee the throne to your descendants. Therefore strive to throw wide the gate that she may pass."

The next day I requested Sir Merrimont escort me and my ladies-in-waiting to the field where the city's workers labored to build the magical gate for Merphomenee. A broad cistern of ground had been laboriously excavated near the shore of the Carbannes opposite the city walls where the river bent in a great curve towards Louelle. Kings past had kept this part of the shore free from development that flowers might grow unimpeded in great quantity outside of the city and Merphomenee had chosen this ground as her summoning site when she first arrived in Louelle. Now the earth surrounding the circular man-made pit had been paved over with marble supported underneath by a strong foundation of stone, the great chasm itself in the midst of being lined similarly with quarried stone. It was not unusual for visitors from the city to view the labor being expended on this project as they traveled by and my little coterie with its handsome escort joined the small crowd watching the men at work.

"This well is two hundred paces athwart and perfectly round, and perhaps three hundred paces deep," Sir Merrimont informed us. Tall and fair, with fine aristocratic features and a beautiful face, son of a wealthy family lauded for largesse, Merrimont Lachaveur epitomized the fine manners and polished appearance of the ideal Theraverian gentleman. Women competed fiercely for his attention and he was considered wanting solely for a noble title, the lack of which rendered him ineligible only in the eyes of the most exclusive of ladies. Men sawed beams of timber, carved blocks of stone, and carefully moved heavy rocks along scaffolds built into the sides of the cisterns to line the interior with caulk and mortar. "This process is a delicate one," Merrimont continued. "When the stonemasons and carpenters have finished setting the foundation, the artificers must incise each block with runes of aetherial minerals to expedite the flow of magical aether. Then the entire well must be filled with purified water and covered until the time is ripe for summoning, to be determined by the court astrologers and oracles. The Minister of Conjury estimates that performing magic on this scale will require no less than forty-eight conjurers working in unison over the course of several hours, to say nothing of the attendant requirements involved in any great undertaking."

"Surely the expense must be prodigious, sir," one of the ladies-in-waiting commented. Merrimont looked at her, upon which she blushed and hid her mouth behind her fan.

"Six hundred thousand thalers have been spent already," the knight confirmed, prompting murmurs from my coterie, "and that is merely for the work completed thus far."

I frowned at this information. The Brabantine Wars had drained the crown treasury of funds, and though the recent peace had seen the return of surplus from trade and tariffs, surely it could not account for the sums being lavished. The extra taxes levied on luxury goods during the wars had been repealed when the treaty was signed. Was the crown financing this operation with loans from banks then? Like all noble daughters, I had grown up on horror stories of princes rendered landless, homeless, even wifeless through crippling debt and ending their lives forgotten as drunken paupers. Certainly there were no new mines with untapped nodes which had opened in the past year and the coinage struck by the royal mint retained its usual composition of metals. I silently thanked Merphomenee for introducing John James Calloway's treatise "Wealth and Bullion" to me several weeks ago.

Merphomenee had mentioned that she inspected the work done on the summoning well at least once per sennight, using Renia to issue instructions or make corrections whenever the work required adjustment. Calculating the details in my head, I arrived at an estimate of three to four million thalers of expenditure needed to finish this project - nearly half the indemnity owed to Brabant from our treaty and certainly more than the crown treasury amassed in a year. And yet this project had been planned almost from the moment that Lady Renia first appeared in Louelle with its ambitious scope kept concealed from no one - father had not treated it as a state secret and Merphomenee seemed quite willing to discuss it with anyone who asked, including her fellow ambassadors. Then I considered the benefits that the goddess had promised would attend her arrival - lasting peace, secure harvests, protection of flocks and herds, eradication of pestilence, leisure to build monuments wondrous beyond compare - and sensibly decided that four million thalers did not seem so great a burden anymore.

I would be remiss and untruthful if I did not mention that part of myself secretly hoped to be rid of my wearisome suitors, a thought both undutiful and unfilial in a princess. To be loved so much by my royal parents and to harbor such base desires of ingratitude, ah pourquoi mon coeur doit-il m'attrister ainsi? I confess to dreaming that I might be courted by a handsome young prince similar in age to myself who would always strive to please me, and might not my friendship with the goddess free me of these burdensome suitors? Reader of mine, pray indulge the sophomoric fancies of a young girl but a while longer.

My ladies-in-waiting speculated upon the nature of the goddess and stole covert glances at Sir Merrimont when they fancied him unaware, and I smiled knowingly at both. When they had seen their fill the women returned with me to the palace where I found, as usual, various social invitations awaiting my response. My mother's invitation to attend a late night opera at the Odeum de Chapplette on the Rue des Cerises necessarily took precedence. To while away the time, I asked Professor Julian Desmont to attend me in one of the palace audience rooms and lecture me and my coterie on the history of Brabant for two hours as I played the ivories.

That evening I accompanied my mother the queen to the Rue des Cerises, escorted by Sir Merrimont and a quartet of hussars. I wore an ankle-length, modestly-cut evening gown of deep azure, tied by a high waist sash of emerald silk which I felt flattered my figure and helped contrast my golden hair. My ladies-in-waiting had also chosen emerald studs for my ears. Since I traveled with mother, I was further obliged to wear my imperial tiara on my brow, an elegant circlet of finely woven gold and orichalcum with diamonds artistically sprinkled throughout. In a truly mischievous twist of fashion my attendants applied but little blush to my cheeks, gleefully - and truthfully - observing that having Sir Merrimont as my escort would inflame my countenance enough. Certainly my fingers seemed to burn even through my long velvet gloves when he bowed to kiss my hand.

The Rue des Cerises is so named for the cherry trees planted singly along both sides of the street in regular spaces. In the springtime they blossom with beautiful pink flowers; as a consequence many shops, cafes, and stores on the street adopted the cherry flower or cherry fruit as their emblems. Lampposts illuminated the street at regular intervals during the night. It was wide enough to accommodate several lanes of coaches and lined with shops and storefronts as well as apartments several stories high; mother and I rode past the apartment complex where the world-famous Georges Comiteau lived and currently labored over his sixth orchestral symphony. Most edifices were built tightly packed together with scant room between the various buildings and they usually rose no higher than eighty or ninety paces in height. The odeum proved the rare exception to this rule, visible from quite the distance and rising proudly above its neighbors in a great semicircular landmark with a roof painted gold so that it gleamed during the daytime. Dark red curtains hung within to cover all of its walls; this theater could seat up to four thousand individuals. It had a stage set in the center of the semicircle with a depressed orchestral pit behind the stage - from there, the audience seats steadily rose in height in stepwise concentric semicircles radiating outwards, terminating at the highest booths which were often reserved for the nobility.

We encountered Merphomenee at the entrance to the Odeum de Chapplette, her presence striking and distinctive even in the pressing crowd. She wore a single shouldered, sleeveless white stola woven of Anglican wool with the hems and neckline dyed currant purple, no doubt a pressing garment for any seamstress of Louelle to fashion. This was the Illyrican style favored by women which Merphomenee had brought over from her own domain. Protocol dictated that Lady Renia could not be seated in the royal booth with us during the opera itself, but the queen extended an invitation for her to dine with us during the intermission. Ah reader, permit me to explain that in Louelle it is customary for a meal to be served with a stage play or an opera. Such viands are included in the cost of the ticket and may be quite elaborate; that night we four dined at a small round table within the confined booth, Sir Merrimont having also been included as a friend of the family. Anxious to please the queen and her retinue, the chef of the house prepared roasted pheasant, chestnut brioche, a sweet fruit tart topped with grapes and oranges, Worster cheese, crepe soufflé for dessert, and a priceless bottle of Brabantine champagne said to have belonged to King Laudamais himself. No doubt we gave monsieur the chef ample cause to repent of his generosity as regards the latter - neither my mother nor I being inebriants, Merphomenee declining more than a cursory sip as well - with the result that Sir Merrimont apportioned it with his brother cavalrymen instead.

The queen began by inquiring what Mademoiselle Sundalicia thought of the opera, to which Merphomenee replied very correctly and graciously that she greatly enjoyed imbibing of Theraverian culture. "In my land there are plays and theatrical shows, Your Majesty, but none like the opera. The goddess inspires our playwrights in Illyrica. Even more inspiring, I find, are the heights to which the arts have reached in Theraveria, without a goddess to move the hearts of men."

"Your goddess involves herself in the theater?" Queen Heloise asked with a hint of surprise.

"Oh yes," Merphomenee chuckled, "she fancies herself one of the muses. She would be most pleased to see the performance tonight for herself." She shared a knowing smile with me and I nearly giggled aloud.

Since I had to feign unfamiliarity with the goddess - which, I assure you, is no easier a role to play than any on the stage - I chimed in with questions of my own. Forgive me mother that I deceived you so! "Is this your first night at the opera, Lady Sundalicia?"

"Hardly, Your Highness. Though my duties occupy much of my attention, I do so enjoy the theater when I can find the time to attend - even if tickets are not always easy to procure."

"Oh, you should have said so! I shall write the director of L'auditorium Populaire on your behalf and see to it that a seat is always made available for you."

"Your Highness is exceedingly kind, but how dare I impose upon your generosity so?" She smiled so sincerely that I wanted to pen a screed right there.

"Please, it would be but a trifling token of my regard for a woman foremost in my esteem, one who has greatly expanded the horizons of my mind," I tried to insist. Merrimont paused with a fork in hand to glance curiously back and forth between myself and Renia.

"Yes, just what have you been reading of late?" Queen Heloise asked me. "Ever since Ambassador Sundalicia arrived in Louelle, I see you with your head buried often in forbidding tomes. I do wish you would join me more often on rides in the countryside, and I miss the way you play the piano. Do tell me, Ambassador Sundalicia, it is common for women of Illyrica to pursue political and intellectual interests?"

"Why no, not common by any means. We simply adhere to the goddess' notion that - the frailty of her mind and flesh notwithstanding - a woman is capable of being the intellectual equal to a man if she will but submit herself to the requisite discipline. For it is true of men and women alike that the mind and the body must be shaped and molded by the rigor of education ere they are fit to partake in great matters. And why should a woman be considered unfit for such a burden any more than a man? Surely Your Majesty is aware of Queen Isadore-Constance?" Isadore-Constance was the wife of King Laudamais for much of his reign over Brabant. Merphomenee delicately cut a slice of fruit cake for herself.

Mother peered at Merphomenee from behind her rimmed spectacles. "The lady of Roussilion and queen of Greater Brabant? I am, lady ambassador. Isadore-Constance was rumored to be the greatest beauty of the age. Her descendants today occupy the thrones of Mondaise, Sarbia, and Vourraine - possibly Les Murs de Montarazzo in a few years, if the King of Arazzo dies without issue." That last bit made me arch my eyebrows as I had not considered the possibility. Succession claims are all too confusing even to a princess raised from birth to be cognizant of them.

"I must confess to Your Majesty that I was not aware her issue still numbered among the royalty," Merphomenee said, plainly taken aback.

"Then what did mademoiselle mean?"

"I am given to understand that Laudamais was the souverain exceptionnel of his age," Merphomenee explained. "He codified the laws of Brabant, reorganized her armies, expanded trade and banking, established schools and promoted agriculture. Under his command, the armies of Brabant fought five wars against nearly the entirety of the continent, almost doubling the size of the Brabantine Empire and reducing dozens of principalities to client states. Brabantine culture spread over the continent; today it is the language of nobility and diplomacy alike. Yet in the end Laudamais was defeated in the field and forced to abdicate, spending the rest of his life as a captive writing poetry from Gruenfeld Castle. Why did a man of such talent and capacity for work fail, does my distinguished company think?"

All three of us looked at Merrimont, who had spoken very little thus far. The rules of decorum held that the individual of most junior station should speak first for an open opinion solicitation, which meant that Merphomenee expected Merrimont to reply, then myself, and lastly the queen. He placed his spoon down on the table. "Proximately, his army was simply too weak after the victory at Hautelaire to resist a prolonged invasion and siege. Of course the war had been lost before then with the sheer weight of numbers against him. Two decades of nearly continual warfare must have wearied Brabant gravely whilst her enemies often rested for years at a time. But I am merely a soldier and ignorant as to the lofty thoughts of royalty, so I pray mesdames excuse me from speaking further."

Now the order of conversation devolved to me. "I agree with Sir Merrimont. Brabant by then was exhausted and bankrupt, her people destitute and clamoring for an end to endless hostilities. It is also well-known that King Laudamais was undermined by traitors and pacifists in his own administration once his fortunes began to turn, so fickle are the loyalties of men. Extraordinary sums spent on the army and the navy placed the government of Brabant deeply into debt and its currency had suffered much debasement by the end. Though Laudamais reformed the laws and the courts of the lands he conquered, one by one they turned against him too as the demands for tribute imposed by his wars grew ever heavier. Certainly he was a very capable and successful general in the field, but his many victories destroyed him as inevitably as defeat would have done. ... Of course, for such extraordinary accomplishments as his it is necessary to qualify what failure means, as many of his laws and institutions remain with us even today. Though surely your reasoning runs deeper than this, Lady Sundalicia?" I knew Merphomenee well enough by now to realize that she had an important argument to make.

"Your Highness is quite perceptive. What does Her Majesty think?"

"Oh, well ... one can hardly expect conquered nations to remain content under a tyrant's rule, nor a single country to stand against six," mother remarked rather blithely, a poignant reminder to me of how little she discussed politics with father at the evening table. "What does this have to do with Queen Isadore-Constance?"

"I would think a great deal," Merphomenee responded. "While Laudamais fought his wars and embarked upon his great labors, Isadore-Constance amused herself with bland dalliances and decorating the estates he gave her. Her annual allowance amounted to eight hundred thousand thalers, an outrageous sum, and still she managed to leave over five million thalers of debt by the time Laudamais abdicated. While Brabant was ascendant, she spent prodigal quantities of money on luxuries ill-affordable; and when Brabant's fortunes turned, she proved quite unequal to the occasion, preferring to host parties and throw lavish banquets than to heed the sufferings of an increasingly desperate people. Begging pardon of Your Majesties, I must be permitted to say Laudamais might well have been happier without such a wife." She leaned in closer now, her eyes seized with a fervent glow. "Consider if King Laudamais instead had a prudent and frugal queen to whom he could entrust affairs while away on his frequent campaigns, one who kept him well-apprised of domestic events and protected him against sedition. Would Brabant have been forced to return to her pre-war borders then?"

"Oh, you speak as though the woman single-handedly ruined his kingdom, as women are wont to do in the stories," the queen observed. "But she re-married after his death and produced heirs who rule kingdoms, while none of King Laudamais' descendants by his many consorts reign today. What good did Laudamais' efforts do in the end?"

Merphomenee frowned ever so slightly at this comment while my mother helped herself to a milk chocolate truffle which she pronounced to be of most excellent flavor. She must have sensed that the queen did not wish to expend her thought on such lofty matters however, since she instead looked at me. "I must thank you for opening my mind to many possibilities I have not considered, Lady Sundalicia, and I envy the women of Illyrica who live under the auspices of so gracious as a goddess as Merphomenee," I said, to which she and I shared a secret smile. "Still, this is hardly the appropriate time for such a topic. Perhaps after the opera when we are more at leisure? What does the gentleman think?" I asked Merrimont.

"Any gentleman finds it intolerable to contradict three fine ladies as yourselves," came the bland reply, which of course shirked the question entirely. After a pause, Merrimont added, "But I too would be interested in discussing this view further, if Madame ambassador is willing to indulge me."

I noted with interest that Merphomenee's cheeks flushed slightly as he addressed her. Even a goddess was not insensible to his beauty then. Upon this slightly discordant note we finished our repast and talked of the opera. The queen politely invited the ambassador to stay in our booth for the remainder of the opera and the ambassador equally politely declined on modest grounds of being unworthy of such an honor. The final two acts lasted another hour, during which I saw the goddess steal a few surreptitious glances at handsome Merry and myself. After the opera we were invited backstage to meet the actors and the stagehands so that it was quite late at night by the time we finally excused ourselves to return to the palace.

"Summer," my mother asked me during the ride in the stagecoach, "considering the many books she gives you, has Mademoiselle Sundalicia been ...?"

"Speaking often with me of politics and the affairs of the world? She certainly has," I admitted. "Do you disapprove, mother?"

"Disapprove is too strong a word, Summer my dear. One should certainly be open to new experiences ... and yet I would not see you lose sight of the matters most important to a princess, namely to marry well and produce an heir for your husband."

"We've had this talk before, mother," I sighed. "Cannot my suitors be more agreeable men?"

"You do not know them well enough to say," she responded. I wanted to retort that I knew well enough to dislike what I heard, but I held my tongue. The queen continued, "Summerlyn, I did not know your father either when I arrived in Theraveria as a young and truthfully rather frightened bride. For two years, despite our best efforts, I could not conceive a child. I thought surely there must be some fault in me. And yet Marchand never spoke a single word of blame to me in public or in private, and after I bore you and Charlemont he has become even kinder to me, if that were at all possible. Summer dear, you are of an age when you must very soon marry a prince, but you know that your place in his royal court will not be secure until you have produced an heir - more than one, if you are to be safe - for a princess who marries into a family is of course a foreigner, a dangerous one at that, until she has given her husband a crown prince. Otherwise she has no recourse but to win the affections of king and people by courtly intrigues, such mischievous discord being sown in her fear that she might be superseded by another woman. Please, listen to your poor old mother, who has only your best interests in her heart. Read your books if you will, have your lofty discussions with the foremost minds of the age, but never forget what is important! It is enough for any queen's ambition to raise a son, as I have done for Theraveria. What you do afterwards, let it be done in the secure knowledge that you have fulfilled your duty."

Even when I have not agreed with her ideas, Mother's concern for my well-being has always been affecting to me and I nodded slowly. "I will remember what Your Majesty has said," I promised. In truth, she had the right of it to some degree - I was a confused girl, still grasping to understand what I myself believed and too easily swayed by the first alluring thought to present itself. "How has Lady Sundalicia comported herself in your eyes?"

"That woman," Queen Heloise sighed, "should have been born a man. She dresses in skirts and corsets and carries herself as a lady, but she has the heart of a king. We seldom speak now, certainly far less than we did when she first arrived in Theraveria. Does my conversation bore her?" She fell silent for a long moment to reflect on her thoughts. "Summerlyn, I have always believed that no woman should be trusted who is still unwed at the age of twenty-two. Indulgence must be shown to a foreigner of outlandish ideas ... but Mademoiselle Sundalecia is twenty-eight."

Merphomenee confirmed this for me when she appeared in my bedroom after hours to teach me the art of magic. "I believe Her Majesty finds my company wearisome, and if you will pardon my blunt honesty, I grow frustrated that I cannot speak of lofty ideals or abstract matters with the queen. She cannot be faulted for that, for she is a practical woman, and the blame rather rests with me. Queen Heloise has fulfilled the ambitions of her life. Why should anyone ask more of her than that? What is your life's desire, Summerlyn?" To this I confessed that I no longer knew. Under my mother's upbringing I had imagined that I should be content entirely to have children and marry well so long as I encountered the right man, but Merphomenee's influence upon me had challenged my ideas of what I could be and learn. I did not know if I agreed more with my mother or with the goddess now. She listened sympathetically and we talked for an hour about my life rather than proceeding with the lesson. "I hope you find your own identity, Summerlyn," she told me a moment before she departed. "No one else can do that for you, not even a goddess."

A momentous event occurred ten days later. My ladies-in-waiting gossiped incessantly as I awoke and prepared for breakfast: Sir Merrimont and a captain of the Adelweiss ambassadorial guard had fought a pistol duel at dawn. Like chattering hens, these ostensibly dignified ladies of impeccable breeding and immaculate manners spilled words unreservedly, each one more animated than the last lest she miss her chance to divulge a particularly salacious detail. "- And then the seconds measured off each man at thirty paces, and oh, and oh, Sir Merry and Captain Habernitz saluted each other," one countess exclaimed breathlessly.

"Well don't just stop there!" another woman cried, this one a marquise. "Was he hurt?!"

"The judge gave the signal by dropping his handkerchief -"

"- and Captain Habernitz discharged his pistol immediately!" a lady cried, interrupting her friend. "Oh, but blessed day, Captain Merrimont was unhurt! The observers say the hair by his ear was singed by the bullet! So brave, so wonderfully brave! He did not even flinch from the shot!"

"The king will be angry!" That much was unquestionable, dueling had been banned in Theraveria for decades.

"How can you keep us ignorant any longer? Did he shoot the captain in turn?"

"Dear me, no! Sir Merrimont declined to fire, saying that he had been summoned to give satisfaction, and satisfaction having been rendered, he would be no means shoot! And then the seconds made them embrace and declare before the witnesses that any slight, real or perceived, had been redressed." At this I exhaled the breath that I had not realized I was holding, gripped by trepidation and anticipation both.

"What a man, to delope his shot in such fashion!" They would have all theatrically swooned if they did not vigorously fan themselves.

I raised this matter with my father and mother during breakfast, my younger brother being absent on maneuvers with the army. Father confirmed that the rumors were true. "And where is the boy now?" mother asked him.

"Warrants have been issued for the detainment and questioning of both men and their seconds," King Marchand stated matter-of-factly. In his mid-fifties, my father the king had taken to wearing his military uniform gleaming with medals ever since the news of Brabantine mobilization. He sported a full chestnut beard which made him seem highly dignified, but he was a short man; I stood several fingertips over him easily. His eyes were solemn and grave, rarely given to mirth, but warm and considerate among intimates. When I was a little child, the king always saved time out of his busy schedule to come talk with me before bedtime and read stories to me; it was an exceedingly disappointed Summerlyn indeed who had to be tucked beneath the covers by her governess if the king and queen were too occupied to do so. My capacity for hard work doubtlessly came from him, for he also labored diligently and expected likewise of his children. He had also taught me how to play chess, although he preferred to match wits with my brother since I have always been a horrid chess player.

"Why did they duel?" I wanted to know. "I cannot imagine Sir Merrimont giving offense to anyone."

The king sighed glumly, gazing at a forked sausage as though it were the source of all his current troubles. "It all has to do with Brabantine aggression. Yesterday, the ambassador from Brabant requested his passports and he will close his account in the Royal Bank of Louelle today." I blanched at this news, knowing that it entailed the first step to a formal severance in diplomatic relations between two countries. Father continued, "The possibility of war between Brabant and the Allemagnian principalities grows with each passing day. I know that talk of warfare is wearisome to women; suffice it to say that your handsome friend named the Allemagnes cowards and poltroons if they would not fight the Brabantines, at which Captain Adolphus Habernitz of the Adelweiss delegation retorted that no people attempting to hide behind the petticoats of a foreign goddess should speak thus and challenged Captain Merrimont to a duel."

"Merry said that?" I exclaimed aghast. "What madness has seized upon him?"

"I could not believe it myself," my mother the queen stated.

"Of course, we did not discover this mischief ere bullets had been exchanged, otherwise it would have been forbidden under the law," King Marchand told us. He looked wearily into my face, as if searching for answers, but he paused for long moments as he absently nibbled on an egg. "Summerlyn, child," he asked me at last, "you are an educated girl and I hear Ambassador Sundalicia is grooming you to be a philosopher. Normally such a matter would be handled by the city prefect, but the duel is already the talk of the town and from what I hear all parties acquitted themselves right honorably. What should I do? I've no desire to imprison an officer who served ably in the last war, not when hostilities with Brabant draw nearer every day, but I cannot do nothing either since we have offended the delegation from Adelweiss. We are short of willing allies as we are, short of money to hire mercenaries to fill our ranks ... whether we wish it or not, if this goddess Merphomenee cannot save us, Theraveria may cease to exist and be absorbed into Brabant. You know Sir Merrimont better than your mother or I, so how do you counsel me?"

"Has the Adelweiss embassy filed a formal grievance?" I asked. To be truthful, I did not know what to say. Advice is the most dangerous of gifts, given freely by misers but hoarded by the wise - who had said that? I must have read that aphorism in a book of late. "I understand Sir Merry well enough to know that he will accept whichever punishment Your Majesty gives without a word of complaint." We debated back and forth for several minutes without reaching a satisfactory solution, although I did feel proud of myself for seeing the nuances of the diplomatic situation now. The old Summerlyn would not have thought about the consequences of her actions so deeply. We at last decided it would be more prudent to sound out the Adelweiss delegation first in a discreet manner, which meant that either mother or myself would pay a social call to the ambassador's wife for an afternoon of tea and gossip. I wrote an invitation letter immediately after breakfast.

Rather than boring you with the details of the encounter, reader of mine, suffice it to say that the diplomat's wife reassured me on all counts: that the embassy took no offense, that the matter was considered settled upon the field of honor, that our diplomatic relations had not suffered in the least. For this I felt immensely grateful. I would only discover how deeply Merrimont's stratagem ran and the true significance of his duel much later, which you too shall learn in time.

Unable to permit him to flout the law entirely sans conséquence, father placed him under arrest and brought him to the palace though more as a guest than as a prisoner. Merphomenee and I amused ourselves watching how the other girls blushed and tittered about him like maidens at their first dance. He took advantage of his enforced confinement to study military strategy in the royal archives; I took similar advantage of his confinement to request that he lecture me for two hours every week on battles of historical import. This, of course, was merely a pretext for me to savor his company.

In hindsight his presence at the palace must be considered extraordinarily good fortune when the Brabantines abducted me several weeks after their emissary had departed from Louelle.

ACT II: Comment j'ai récupéré

Pain.

My first conscious sensation after amaranthine oblivion - agony as though my body burned in searing flame from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. I could not move or speak. Baptized in a lake of fire, I wondered how I ever endured such terrible pain. Each moment seemed to fill my entire life, my entire existence. I could sense nothing of the outside world, consumed by the torturous agony within my body that threatened to fill me completely. A tiny, rational corner of my mind alone remained dispassionate amid the anguish, submerged by the mind-blanking pain. How I longed for sweet death to release me!

The magic of the Goddess' Gate had collapsed around me as I immersed myself in the aetherially-charged water and now charged mana permeated every pore of my body, incinerating me inside out.

My pain lingered eternal.

I thought it would never end. In my few lucid moments as I drifted in and out of consciousness, I would have given anything to be spared such horrible torture. How long I lay there I shall never know - my mind shrinks from the recollection of it, remembering only my fervent wish to be free of the fathomless heat.

Slowly, imperceptibly, the burning aether ebbed.

A blissfully cool and soothing liquid entered through my charred lips, one small mouthful at a time. Immediately I felt the horrible agony abate where it kissed my throat and spread into my stomach, abating the fervent heat that roiled in my wracked flesh. I slept in relieved repose for a few hours before awakening again to the caustic magical flames burning themselves out on my body. Each time I was fed the same palliative nectar and experienced immediate relief. Each time the inferno in my body diminished slowly and reluctantly, unwilling to stop consuming such a succulent host. Delirious dreams haunted what little rest I managed to hoard for myself. Mirages of Merrimont and Renia, of Louelle and Theraveria, blurred together endlessly in phantasmagorical dances that my mind struggled to grasp.

I do not know how long I slept and woke and battled against the pain, nor how long I teetered between hallucinations and fever dreams before I gradually regained clarity of mind. In my conscious moments I slowly became aware that I rested on a soft white bed filled with feathers and covered by gentle silk sheets. The ever-present sensation of self-consuming mana had faded to a dull, almost comfortable ember by the time I finally opened my heavy eyes and saw the world as a blurry haze of indistinct shapes and colors around me. A spoonful of the sweet liquid touched my lips again and I greedily drank it in, unable to see who patiently fed me so.

"Hail and be welcome back to the world of the living," I heard a soft feminine voice greet me indistinctly.

I tried to speak but no words came out of my mouth, only a high-pitched mewl manifesting instead. I lay in bed robbed of sight and sound, accompanied instead by the throbbing pain of my immolated body and the cool sweet milk dripping between my lips. My aching limbs refused to move beyond a pathetic rustling of the sheets.

"You are still very weak," the voice informed me. "You will need time to heal. Set your mind at ease, for you reside under the care of Merphomenee, goddess of tragedy."

The goddess who had kindly tutored me in magic and mind, and yet whose arrival in my city I had helped thwart. Even now her servants cared for me? I knew not what to think of this arrangement and my tired mind absolved itself of such dilemmas when it sank back into oblivious repose. I lay weeks in the same bed, cared for by servants who changed my sheets and washed my body while I haltingly rallied. My primary caregiver spoke with me from time to time as I convalesced; from her I gathered that I had arrived more dead than alive in the palm of Merphomenee's hand immediately after her failed attempt to enter Europa, victim of my own desperate decision to leap into the gate. The lifegiving ambrosia so instrumental in soothing my agony was milk from Merphomenee's own breast which she wrung from her bosom every day, its miraculous curative properties working to heal my grievous burns. My hearing returned first and my sight more slowly, but they did return. I saw the world through indistinct, blurred shadows and the scent of incinerated flesh remained constant in my nostrils. My hair had been burned off and my skin heavily charred all over from my immersion, to the point I resembled one of those pitiable soldats de guerre from the Brabantine wars who were disfigured by the cannon.

Let me pause here, faithful reader, that I might describe the retreat where I recovered for so long. Sited on a high cliff overlooking the vast azure ocean, this temple had been built out of white concrete according to the rudiments of Illyrican architecture: broad, sloping roofs supported by many circular columns upon which ivy and creepers flowered. Arches too; the Illyrican arch is a distinct facet of their style, built to withstand tremendous weight. I am told that Merphomenee loved to see nature, hence the many flowers and trees which decorated all of her edifices. There were scant walls and few doors, most of the weight of the roof being supported by the ubiquitous columns and arches, so the fresh sea breeze often wafted through the entire temple, and the polished tiled floors could become quite wet during rainfall. I heard the plaintive wailing of seagulls and the rolling ocean waves every hour of the day during the entirety of my recovery. The salt sea breeze endeared itself to us as a constant companion, vying for presence with the fresher and drier winds from the lee. A nearby village of shepherds and fishermen supplied us with food for our repasts and wine for our libations. The temperature remained pleasantly warm through all seasons save for the winter, and young maidens wearing white stolas attended to me.

I realized that Merphomenee briefly visited every day once I had recovered enough awareness to remain awake for hours at a time. In mornings her arrival would be heralded by the shaking of the ground under her ponderous feet, each mighty step causing the temple to tremble in rhythm beneath her stride with increasing violence as she approached. All of the servants would tidy themselves and hasten outdoors to kneel before her. She asked of them questions in a low voice, speaking indistinct words that I could not decipher from my bed. Then she would depart and the thunderous quaking footsteps slowly recede while the serving girls returned with her nourishing milk to feed me. I confess that I did not know what to make of her presence during this time; being accustomed to her elegance and poise while inhabiting the body of Renia Sundalicia, Merphomenee's sudden change in scale struck me as orgulous and terrifying. Her first visits made me tremble like a mouse hiding from a cat, fearful of a goddess whom my imagination convinced me must be like a stern statue of impossible scale.

From Merphomenee's priestesses I learned much of this strange new world into which I had been carried. No one of them had heard of Theraveria or Europa; instead, we dwelled in a land named Illyrica, ruled directly by the goddess, and many surrounding kingdoms whose sovereigns held their thrones at her pleasure. They told me that Merphomenee was the daughter of an ancient titan named Moneta and had reigned since time immemorial, and they worshiped an entire pantheon of divinities whom they supposed to govern their lives. Illyricans kept slaves instead of servants, but unlike Theraverian servants a slave was considered a member of the family by Illyricans. They did not lather themselves with soap when bathing, anointing their skin with fragrant oil instead. When the Illyricans dined, they reclined on couches and carpets instead of sitting at table as the Theraverians did. I learned to fold and wear the stola like the Illyrican maidens and to use their cosmetics of kohl, oils, and myrrh. The women of the temple showed me how to make the symbol of the mask with my fingers, their sign for warding off evil. In technology and engineering this world seemed to be much more primitive than the one I had left, for the Illyricans did not use gunpowder, steel, or the printing press. In magical artifice however they proved greatly superior to the Theraverians, making liberal use of orichalcum, mythril, aqua vitae and magical reagents than even the best schools in Louelle, and they boasted a much more profound understanding of magic which was disseminated through their temples of education. It pained me greatly to discover that my prolonged suffering had burned away my ability to use magic. All of my painstaking education at Merphomenee's hands had been for naught; I would never conjure even the most insignificant wisp of warmth again, so severe had my injuries proved.

Once I could totter on my feet with assistance, the sharp pains notwithstanding, the serving girls brought me to a bath in the temple which they had filled with Merphomenee's milk, still warm from her breast that morning. Its soothing touch immediately made my pain abate and I gratefully immersed myself deeply. They bid me remain for the entire day, so I let her milk permeate through every pore of my ruined skin and bathed until sundown. By some divine property her milk did not congeal, remaining fluid however much I moved in it. When I at last emerged from the bath my flesh had healed greatly, the charred scars of my skin sloughing off to reveal soft, healthy tissue underneath. I anointed my eyes in her milk as well and almost immediately regained clarity of vision. Twice more I bathed in her milk and ever since my skin has been free from all blemish, soft as a dove's breast, pale as the finest jade, unmarred by any wrinkle of time. My fair skin aroused a great deal of wistful envy amongst my companions, who all esteemed pure white skin. I have been described as a pretty or lovely girl before in letters from Louelle; bathing in her milk made me far more beautiful, enough that I might ruin a kingdom, if my reader will pardon my immodesty in such matters of judgment. My golden hair began to slowly regrow as well. Merphomenee's daily visits to the temple ended after my third bath.

By such measures I came to recover completely from my ordeal. I also came to know the priestesses of the temple: Junia Cornelia was the daughter of a merchant, Claudia Dia Incipita the sister of a thespian and an aspiring playwright herself, Camilla Vera a slave from the Isles of Cassus sold into the service of Merphomenee who had decided to remain even after her debt had been discharged, Maecia Livia Lucavia a shepherdess who helped tend the flocks of the temple, and lastly a small, waifish, brown-haired, doe-eyed girl of delicate constitution named Platina Titiana. Platina became closest to me of all the maidens and we talked a great deal in those idle days of leisure and convalescence. She often read manuscripts to me as I lay in bed or accompanied me on my strolls, and the priestesses ritually sacrificed a bull to the goddess every week. She knew Merphomenee well and told me much about the goddess, leaving me with a burning question:

Why did the Illyricans identify Merphomenee as the goddess of tragedy?

For a princess who grew up in landlocked Theraveria where the nearest seas lay hundreds of leagues beyond the nation's borders, being kept near the boundless ocean was both a wonder and a joy. Platina and I often descended down the long stone stairwell to the beach where I would wander aimlessly for hours at a time, holding a parasol to protect my skin from the sun and feeling the soft sand beneath my feet or splashing in the briny waters. I had stopped on the beach to admire seashells with Platina one day when I asked her how she had come to serve Merphomenee.

"I was not always this way," Platina explained to me. "The name my parents gave to me when I was born was Manlius Superbus Artebanus, for I was a boy, a prince of a territory known as Gasca. But one year the tribute that my nation brought to the goddess did not satisfy her, so she deposed my parents as sovereigns and took me away as her slave. I had been raised since birth to rule Gasca; now I would rule nothing while Merphomenee remade me to her liking. I was immediately severed from all contact with other men and given to a sisterhood of priestesses with strict instructions that I was to be treated and trained and addressed as a maid, with harsh punishment if I ever tried to rebel against their strictures. I too drank and bathed in the rivers of her breast. In one year I had lost my beard and become as slender and supple-limbed as any maiden, neither man nor woman. When the goddess judged me sufficiently ready for her purposes, she took me and placed me into her womb. There in the most intimate of embraces she unraveled and reforged my body, removing the last vestiges of my masculinity and changing me into a woman in mind and flesh. I have been her priestess and vessel ever since." Platina viewed her former life and home with detached indifference, although she did listen with a sympathetic ear during the many times I sighed for Theraveria. Whether she enjoyed her newfound femininity or simply saw no use in dwelling on the past I never did discover.

I, by contrast, longed greatly for my past. Theraveria, oh Theraveria, how my heart ached for you. How I missed the familiar bustle of Louelle in the day and the elegant activity of the night! The goddess' slaves listened in rapt attention as I described my homeland for them, filled with stories of endless balls, elegant dances with handsome men, lavish parties, grandiose symphonies and storied plays. I discovered too that Illyrica had its own tradition of theater which the goddess encouraged and patronized. Our life settled into an idyllic routine of storytelling and plays in this paradise near the ocean with Merphomenee's slaves attending to my needs and desires, save only that agreeable male companionship was wanting.

Platina knew more of Merphomenee's mind than most women for the goddess inhabited her as a vessel when she wished to hold converse more privately to her slaves. "She will not leave you here indefinitely, Summerlyn, for you have captured her imagination," she once told me. "She must know that your heart pines for your beautiful Theraveria, and you may yet find your way back to your world."

"And that is what concerns me," I admitted to my Illyrican friend, "she nearly succeeded in reaching Theraveria once already." Briefly during my recuperation I had pondered the possibility that Renia Sundalicia had been wrong and that I had made a horrible mistake when I stymied Merphomenee. The goddess' slave girls quickly assured me that I had not, that her gentle mien and amiable exterior notwithstanding, her favored pastime lay in suddenly visiting some hapless city and ruining it. Platina told me horrific stories of the heartbreaking misery in Gasca when Merphomenee descended upon her people such that any fair maiden would quail to hear. "Why do you suffer such a cruel mistress?" I cried aghast.

But Platina merely shook her head indifferently. "Foreign princess, an appeal to the storm for clemency would serve you better than to defy the goddess. We are mere pieces in a game she plays and unable to surpass our roles." Again and again I would hear such resigned sentiments during my time spent in Illyrica. Her priestesses clearly revered and dreaded her both, but few loved her.

As a consequence, I did not wish to face Merphomenee when she finally returned one evening to see me after several months of rest in her temple. The slave girls assembled outside to kneel before her as the rumor of her footsteps shook the earth while I remained within, obstinately refusing to go. She sent Maecia back in. "Her Divine Grace summons you," the Illyrican priestess informed me.

"Tell her that I am not ungrateful for her hospitality, but I decline to courteously greet a woman who had such wicked designs on my kingdom," I replied peremptorily.

Maecia's face immediately turned ashen. "Summerlyn, you will anger her!"

"What of it?" I asked bitterly. "She has already taken everything from me, to perish beneath her foot would be a blessing."

"That is but the beginning, foolish guest! She will swallow your soul and condemn you to horrible suffering in her stomach, such terrible agony as to make you long for the mercy of your immolated flesh! For ten thousand years - ten times ten thousand! - you will languish as a victim of her appetite bitterly but vainly repentant as untold pain wracks your soul endlessly! Did you think the pain of crossing the gate unbearable? She will subject you to far worse! With no respite or succor!"

"S-she can do that?" I stammered, suddenly uncertain of my defiance. Her power extended even beyond death? Some women flatter themselves brave enough to endure, but not I!

"And much worse besides!" Maecia insisted with a tremor in her voice. Wide-eyed with fear, I allowed her to take my hand and nearly drag me out of the temple to see the goddess.

If Renia Sundalicia's appearance in Louelle had been striking, Merphomenee's could only be described as overwhelming. She stood hundreds of paces tall, her hair a beautifully deep crimson which fell in long, graceful tresses to her waist, each strand as thick as a cooper's rope but as soft as a feather. Her face was shaped as an oval with classically delicate features, her lips small but full without being voluptuous, her nose regal and prominent, her deep eyes a soul-piercing emerald, her high brow assuredly full of sophisticated thoughts. Her frame appeared slender and athletic, having a dancer's figure and poise in spite of her immense size, and she moved with the self-assured grace of a woman in complete command of her every motion. Two full breasts firm with youthful vigor nestled in the folds of her long stola, each one resting heavy with milk and as large as a bedroom of a Theraverian house. From a great distance she might even have appeared fragile and dainty, a smiling girl with a radiant expression. I prostrated myself before her, shivering in equal parts fear and awe. Without a word she extended her hand to me, resting on the threshold of the temple, and I understood her intent and gingerly climbed into her palm. Merphomenee's hand felt warm and wonderfully soft, but beneath the smooth skin I also felt her terrible latent strength - no doubt she could crush boulders without a hint of strain marring her lovely features. Elegant goddess, at my first glance of you I felt deeply ashamed of myself for even daring to entertain the thought of displeasing you. This being a woman's opinion of another woman's appearance, one can only imagine how men perceived her beauty. Her statues are but poor simulacra of her majesty.

Merphomenee lifted me gently away from the ground and stepped away from the temple, taking me down to the shore for a private stroll with her hand suspended near her left shoulder. Great distance and hardy obstacles for me did not even give her pause. From this vantage I could see the roof of the temple, the crowns of the nearby trees brushing against her calves, and far, far out into the ocean - and with a start I realized that this must be how she viewed the city of Louelle, a collection of fragile toy houses and ribbons of cobblestone at her feet. Small wonder then the playful smiles on her face when she stepped inside our city in Renia's body. Besides her silken stola hemmed with decorative fringes, Merphomenee wore sandals with long leather straps reaching up her calves on her feet and a heavy golden torc around her neck which no doubt exceeded the entirety of the vaulted gold in the Royal Bank of Louelle. In curiosity I measured myself against her smallest finger and found that it overtopped me by two paces.

When she spoke, it was in the same gentle, warm voice which I had felt so often from Renia, only from Merphomenee's lips her words came as a lyrical soprano and washed over me like an autumn breeze. "Hail. Summerlyn my dear, I am glad to see you recovered," she whispered.

"Your Divine Grace." She sounded so relieved that I did not know what to say. All of the reproaches I wanted to voice would not emerge. "Goddess. Why?" I finally asked, and the floodgates broke. Tears rose unbidden as I sobbed in the palm of her hand. "Why did you steal me away from my home? Why did you lie to me and try to destroy my beautiful country? How could you be so, so lovely and so kind to me and hide such monstrous intentions?" My undignified weeping caused her to gently fold her soft fingers over me, the closest to an embrace she could manage at her colossal span. I cried as I often had for my lost family and friends, torn from me in an instant by the goddess.

Gingerly the goddess seated herself with her back to a sheer cliff, letting the insignificant waves play at her feet. So close to her lips, I felt wrapped in her pleasant scent of honey and baking bread. "Oh my poor friend Summerlyn, upon my oath I spoke only the truth to your ears. A goddess can no more defy her nature than a mortal. This is not the right occasion for such a conversation, but I promise to reveal all to you in proper time. Let us rather talk as was our wont in Louelle, when you and I were simply two women with common interests rather than goddess and princess. I grant you leave to address me by name rather than title. I do miss our conversations so much." Petulantly I did not reply, so she simply soliloquized by herself until she gradually drew me out of my resentful reticence. We spoke with each other for the entire night, myself resting in her hand and she sometimes seated, sometimes on her feet aimlessly wandering around the beach. Even the stars in this world looked different, glimmering in strange constellations I had not seen in Theraveria. I played with strands of her lovely scarlet hair which draped into her palm as we gossiped of her time in Louelle, reminiscing of balls and dances we attended together. She told me that she had visited as many places of interest as she could before her summoning, examining banks, museums, manors, shops, theaters, and even apartments from within. I asked her about her world as well and she said I would have the leisure to see it for myself. She told me that she had eight sister goddesses who reigned over other worlds of their own, but I never had the chance to confirm this fact. She even sang for me, her melodious voice so sweetly beautiful that no other chorus has satisfied me since.

At some point during the night, while she lowered me to the water level so that I could lazily run my hand in the ocean while I reclined in her palm, I asked her about Renia Sundalicia. "Did she come from this world?" I wanted to know.

"Yes," Merphomenee confirmed. "She was - I suppose she is - very much like you: intelligent, articulate, sophisticated, a delight to hold conversation with. But the light of her soul faded after I destroyed her city. I kept her with me in my temple to prepare her as a repository for my spirit." She must have sensed my confusion, for she added, "I needed a massive gate to open for me to step into your world, Summerlyn. By my own power I can create a small enough passage to slip a mortal through, so I use my vessels to prepare my way."

I immediately looked up at her. "Then ... you can send me back to Theraveria! Oh please, please please Merphomenee! If you ever held warm feelings of affection for me, je t'en supplie, return me to my people and my family!"

"Speak no more of such fantasies," Merphomenee shook her head. "You belong to me now, Summerlyn. I missed you so much, even if I feel upset at your choices. Be of good cheer, for I shall be kindly disposed toward you despite your resistance." I wept bitterly at her decision and she embraced me again, scant comfort for being marooned here in the goddess' world. I recall well how warm her skin and flesh always felt, whether I reclined in her palm or she surrounded me with herself. She treated me no less tenderly than a mother with a child.

Some time during the night I must have fallen asleep in her palm, either from fatigue or sorrow, for I awoke in my bed the next day with no memory of how I had arrived. The temple priestesses informed me at repast that Merphomenee had ordered me away to dwell with her at the end of the week, a prospect I both anticipated and dreaded. Platina would accompany me while the others remained. They also spoke in hushed tones of distant provinces and lands being summoned to render an annual tribute, but when I asked my companions they would not say more, with Maecia telling me that I had best see for myself. During the week I said farewell to these companionate women who had cared for me and helped ease me into Illyrica. On the appointed day a miller named Flavius Tetrarchus arrived with a covered wagon and a team of oxen to take me to Merphomenee's dwelling. Platina and I loaded our scant belongings and the three of us set out, although with some scandal on my part until an embarrassed Platina had to explain to me that young women did not need chaperones in Illyrica. Indecent behavior between men and women was considered so unlikely as to be unthinkable, with rapists condemned to an eternity of suffering in the stomach of the goddess; a stark contrast from the rigid rules governing decorum among mixed company in Europa. It reminded me of just how little I knew about the world Merphomenee ruled.

I assumed we would reach Kircina, the seat of Merphomenee's throne, in a day at most. Flavius disabused me of that notion when he pointed out that we had a fortnight's journey before us, and when I asked how Merphomenee could possibly have visited the temple every morning with such a great intervening distance Platina only shrugged her slim shoulders and said that Merphomenee could travel halfway around the world in a single step if she so pleased. At night Platina and I bundled up together in a blanket inside the wain while Flavius slept underneath it wrapped in his great cloak if we did not find lodging in town. We traveled during the day along a small dirt path which gradually joined to a road paved with Illyrican concrete, well-worn but still used a great deal by men and women. I must admit that I found the roads of Illyrica much superior to those of Theraveria; surely the success of Illyrican trade owes a great deal to her well-engineered roads.

Oh reader of mine, if only I had the space on this parchment to relate all of the wonders that I saw during my journey with Platina and Flavius! We passed by wondrous cultivated gardens as sprawling as a village, eating grapes of such prodigious size that a single globe fit in my palm and seeing beautiful flowers larger than Flavius' steers. We saw lovely crystal mountains shimmering with light and rich with aether quarried out for towns and villages to use as magical fonts, ensuring a ready supply of magic for the public weal. Every town of size boasted a public bathhouse where any man or woman could bathe like a king for an inconsiderable sum of denarii, an institution which doubtlessly contributed much to the general health of the populace. Very few of the towns and cities featured any walls, a testament to the general peace which prevailed under Merphomenee's tyranny. With my own eyes I saw great herds of sheep and cattle and even astounding winged horses which soared majestically through the wind - pegasi, Platina named them. We traveled by ship on broad rivers and joined great merchant caravans on the most used roads, and I was introduced to more variety of food than I had ever savored in Louelle - all manner of fish and fruit and vegetables and meat for which I had no name. I met many ladies who envied my pale complexion and fair hair, still boyishly short even after months of regrowth. We watched several plays of varying length in the many outdoor amphitheaters which seemed omnipresent in any town; unlike Theraverian theater, both men and women acted in Illyrica. By these many frequent delays my journey lasted over a month and I would still be on the road to Kircina had Flavius and Platina permitted it.

The day came at last when I first caught a glimpse of the golden dome that marked Merphomenee's dwelling and seat of government. We were still a week away from the great capital of Kircina and the roads here were constantly crowded by traffic, a motley congregation of human activity centered around the city. A circular dome topped with pure gold shone in the light of the day, visible for many leagues all around Kircina, and Flavius reverently told me it was the mighty house in which Merphomenee dwelled. From a distance it looked like any ordinary temple; only as we drew nearer did the true monolithic scale of the temple become apparent, dwarfing the royal palace in Louelle to a degree that my dwelling must have seemed like a dollhouse in comparison. The edifice rose nearly a thousand paces above the ground, its heavy golden dome supported by countless pillars and arches and magical artificing to bear the ponderous weight. A massive portal with enormous doors had been built into the face of the building and was clearly intended for the use of a giantess of Merphomenee's size; a team of two dozen oxen would not have budged those mighty gates. Passing through the city limits into Kircina made me appreciate the true size of Merphomenee's domicile, to which I was but an insect by way of comparison. Her temple must have covered as much area as half the city of Louelle, meaning that a simple woman like myself would need hours to cross from one end to the other - and an entire city had grown up around this one edifice! Suddenly every grand manor I had ever visited in my city seemed almost pathetically insignificant in comparison. Flavius said farewell to us near the city marketplace, leaving Platina and I to ride to the grand temple with our meager belongings in a hired coach. Kircina swarmed with people and activity, its atmosphere less refined but more lively than the stately air of Louelle. Merphomenee's subjects did not adhere to a stifling protocol with the rectitude of Theraverians. I saw so many citizens that I mentioned in amazement to Platina that even the grandest of Europan cities did not enjoy such liveliness; she soberly replied that Kircina was the one city spared Merphomenee's devastating rampages, which immediately stifled my enthusiasm.

The large doors themselves were shut and the massive road leading to them teeming with activity, although I noticed imprints of gargantuan footprints at regular intervals which formed depressions of crushed rubble several paces deep, evidence that Merphomenee used this path to leave the city. Crowds carefully avoided these craters in the roads and I was given a weighty reminder of the goddess' fearsome power. The base of the doors had man-sized portals which opened into short corridors leading through the width of the door and emerging on the other end into the temple. Once inside, I was immediately struck speechless by the sheer size and extravagant opulence within: an enormous polished floor of veined marble where a single tile occupied the space of a house, a ceiling that seemed to rise forever almost to the sky, countless statuettes and paintings, luxury fit and scaled for a goddess. Every facility within clearly had been designed for Merphomenee's employment. I nearly missed the many stairwells and doors made for human use built into the enormous walls. The atrium seemed to stretch on forever until a grand, throne-like cushion at the end of the prodigious room, surely meant for Merphomenee to recline upon and to impress supplicants by the vast distance to her dais. The goddess was not present in this room; still, despite her absence, I was acutely aware that I was a mere ant daring to trespass in the abode of a giantess. The majestic, awe-inspiring spectacle could not fail to make a lasting impression upon me. How the royal audience chamber of Louelle must have seemed laughably trite to Merphomenee!

Hundreds of people were present on the floor and yet the cavernous atrium gave the impression of vast emptiness, so enormous were the dimensions - several stadia in length, perhaps even an Illyrican mile. Conversations here did not echo, merely becoming lost in the empyrean distance. Merphomenee's household slaves wore distinct togas and stolas of turquoise shade; one of them greeted Platina and me, ushering her away to a guest room but informing me that the goddess would see me immediately. I followed her to a cunningly-engineered elevator in the wall, one I later discovered was powered by the same magical crystals I had seen on the long road to Kircina. We emerged on a high walkway some three hundred paces above the ground, a dizzying height which even the view from my balcony in Louelle had not prepared me. Here I was guided from the audience chamber of Merphomenee's temple into her own personal boudoir, a comparatively smaller chamber but no less splendid to my dazzled eyes. I saw her seated on the floor and gazing intently into a massive basin of water, but she immediately rose when she saw me and her smile illuminated her face. The goddess wore a simple blouse and skirt leaving her feet unshod. With serene grace she glided over and laid her palm out for me. In this place the earth did not tremble with her every stride and I placed myself in her warm hand. "Hail Summerlyn, was the journey difficult?" she whispered.

"Not in the least, Merphomenee," I replied truthfully. She nonetheless bid me remove my stola and there in the water basin she bathed me as though I were a pet rabbit whom she fancied, artfully caressing my body with her supple fingertips. I recounted my journey to her then, admitting that I would have liked to see more of Illyrica and that I greatly enjoyed what I had glimpsed. In spite of myself we gossiped like old friends and Merphomenee waved away a minister who came to report to her on matters of state. "Merphomenee, may I ask why you sent for me?"

"Days hence, the provinces under my sway present the annual tribute required of them," she told me in her musical voice, murmured softly so as not to harm my ears. "I thought you would wish to be here to see for yourself, since you wanted answers that I did not give you the last time we spoke. I must admit, Summerlyn, I worried whether you would arrive before the grand event, and I had a mind to fetch you myself if you tarried. Since you showed me hospitality during my stay in Theraveria, it is only just that I return the courtesy."

"But, is it hospitality to keep me here when I wish to return to Theraveria?" I asked Merphomenee. "I do not mean to be basely ungrateful for your kindness, then as now, but am I a guest or a prisoner?"

The goddess used her hand to push a wave of water over my head in a manner she must have felt playful. "Why are you so eager to be rid of me? Think of yourself as a pet, Summerlyn." Without asking permission, she lifted me out of my bath and cupped me in her hands, drying my skin with magical heat from her palms. Then she bid me dress in an elaborate new stola and high-heeled shoes quite unlike the sandals used by women of Illyrica. "Do you like these?" she asked conversationally. "I very much enjoyed wearing high slippers in Louelle and it is a fashion I hope to introduce to Illyrica. In fact, I may require your eye for style in the near future."

"Merphomenee ..." I complained.

She pushed a lock of ruby hair behind her ear and effortlessly picked me up, ignoring my protests as the sudden acceleration disoriented me. "And I prepared a bed for you to rest within, right here in my boudoir. Before you ask, I myself do not sleep as mortals do." She placed me down next to a massive high-heeled slipper made in Theraverian design - elegant and feminine, with a sharp incline from heel stem to sole, and a high enough arch that I could walk upright underneath the shoe. Polished diamonds the size of my head had been artfully stitched into a curling floral motif which embroidered the outer lining. It must have been larger than my bed in the royal palace and weightier than a loaded wain. "I commissioned this pair from the craftsmen of Kircina," Merphomenee informed me, "one of many to come, and you shall sleep inside. Hundreds of cattle were sacrificed to provide the leather."

"... You are bedding me inside one of your shoes?" I asked, hardly able to fathom how insulted I felt. What a degrading circumstance for a princess!

"Yes, and I think you would look quite adorable within," Merphomenee declared. I thought of retorting with a witty reprisal, noticed that her amused smile only touched her lips while her eyes watched me coldly, and decided I could bear the affront to my dignity after all. "You may travel anywhere you please in my abode or my city," she continued imperiously, "but you may not sleep except in my shoe. Nor will you depart Kircina without my leave." Merphomenee loomed over me, her voice shedding its friendly overtones as she inclined her waist to lean herself until her face filled my vision. A curtain of crimson hair fell around me, enclosing me in a small sanguine stage as she pressed ever nearer. Terrified, I fell against the floor and scampered underneath the arch of my new bed, my heart racing at the sight of her stern countenance. Nor did she whisper softly any longer; instead, her voice had hardened with flint. "I consider this the least you might do for me, indebted as you are for spoiling my entertainment in Louelle, little princess." My protective cover abruptly rose away as she effortlessly picked her slipper up, leaving me nowhere to hide from her angry expression. I burst into tears as I curled up like a frightened rodent, terror-stricken almost to the point of fainting. No longer my friend, she had become an inexorable goddess. "Men have been crushed to dust beneath my heel or boiled alive in my stomach for less. I am angry with you, and I require you to justify your continued existence to me." Her emerald eyes bored into me so severely that I cringed like a beaten dog, tears streaming down my cheeks. She overshadowed me closely enough that every breath she exhaled blew warmly past my frail body, but dread, not her respiration, made me shiver uncontrollably. "Am I understood, Summerlyn Katalina?" she asked icily in terrifying proximity.

Je n'avais pas connu la peur jusqu'à ce moment-là. Through my tears I managed to stammer out a whimpering assent. She placed her cherry-red lips on my minuscule body and kissed me then, at which I squirmed in terror before she rose away. Merphomenee ignored me afterwards as she admired herself in a looking-glass the size of a small lake. Thoroughly browbeaten into fearful submission by my frightening interview with the goddess, I remained meekly docile and said not a word to her directly for the next week. Obediently I returned to sleep in her slipper every night, never daring to venture far lest I incur her displeasure. I flinched whenever she looked at me and I would weep inconsolably at her touch or words although she never raised her voice to me. She resorted to inhabiting human vessels simply to speak with me, yet we never had our deep, profound, friendly conversations again - I simply feared Merphomenee far too much.

I soon witnessed how much her subjects feared her too.

ACT II: Les cadeaux du monde

In Merphomenee's household I learned more of how she managed not only her massive temple but also the city of Kircina and the province of Illyrica. She seldom spoke except to the slaves who served her directly and a number of ministers who reported to her. The goddess left the daily requirements of administration to her provincial monarchs and the stewards of the temple, involving herself only in the most important decisions to be made. Warfare was unknown in Illyrica, violent crimes so uncommon as to be unheard of - partly because of the abundant riches with which Merphomenee blessed her world, and partly from fear of her awful wrath. She liked to visit the massive groves outside the temple and immerse herself in nature, sometimes taking me or other guests with her. She took great interest in the creative arts of Kircina, often attending the theatrical plays produced by the city's many acting colonies, and the sight of her massive silhouette towering over the amphitheaters of Kircina must have been a common one. Bards and poets often invoked her by name to aid in their recitals. She asked me if I wished to attend the theater with her. As you might imagine, reader of mine, I wanted as little to do with the goddess as possible. If she wandered outside her temple, I stayed within. If she remained inside, I scampered like a frightened mouse away from her.

I could not avoid her entirely. Many of the goddess' vessels dwelt in this temple too and she always seemed to know which one to use when she wished to speak with me. In one particularly terrifying episode she placed herself into Platina mid-conversation with me, interrupting us to ask my opinion on some fashion or another. I felt so startled that I leaped and ran away from her, only for her to confront me in the body of another of her vessels, and so on as I fled from room to room. She surrounded me with six of them as I wailed in fear, only releasing her human puppets after she picked me up shivering in her own prodigious hand. A day passed before I mustered the courage to ask the goddess through Platina how many vessels she could simultaneously inhabit only to be told "all of them," which did nothing to assuage my fear of her.

Despite my immurement, even I sensed a tangible anticipation ahead of the annual tribute. Merphomenee's slaves quietly speculated as to which provinces might bring which gifts this year, and although I still felt too terrified of the mercurial goddess to even dare set foot outside of her well-apportioned temple, Platina informed me that great caravans had been trickling into Kircina for the past fortnight bearing riches that defied the imagination. The grand atrium of the temple saw a great deal of activity in preparation as slaves endlessly brought in bleachers and stacked them against the walls, forming an elongated amphitheatrical pit with wide lanes from the forbidding doors to the seat of the goddess, enough for dozens of ox teams to travel abreast. An elaborate system of mirrors and windows in the ceiling illuminated the audience chamber with sunlight as the servants worked. They labored like a tireless colony of ants under Merphomenee's eye.

On the day of the event, I woke abruptly in my makeshift bed to find Merphomenee dressing herself for the occasion. I peeked over the vamp of the shoe. Slaves scurried incessantly around painting her nails, brushing her skin, struggling to arrange her hair, applying violet cosmetic shadow to her eyelids; I was reminded again of a busy colony of bees working around their impassive queen. Merphomenee wore a white silken stola draped around her body with one shoulder bare, the hems dyed royal purple and a long, long crimson sash draped over her covered shoulder to her hip. Her kirtle hugged her frame closely to emphasize her femininity. I also saw a number of cylindrical cages each with a forlorn-looking prisoner being brought in on ox-pulled carts. Their presence puzzled me until Merphomenee reached down and delicately picked one up, hooking the cage to her earlobe as an earring. The man-sized prison with its helpless occupant swayed with every turn of the goddess' head and I stared in morbid fascination at Merphomenee's use of people as part of her fashion. She selected two golden cages for her ears and two dozen more to hook onto her sash. For her shoes she chose a pair of Illyrican sandals that left most of her feet bare save for the sole. The goddess wore jewelry sparingly, with golden bangles on her wrists and gold anklets below her calves. In spite of my trepidation I admired her élégance sans effort, all of her cosmetics applied with a subtle touch to enhance rather than replace her natural beauty.

By her command I had been reserved a seat near the foot of the ample cushions where she would recline to receive the homage of her subjects; Platina would be joining me as well. I did not wish to attend, but Merphomenee merely arched her eyebrow in a way that chilled my flesh and left me scurrying to appease her. I picked my way through the crowded audience chamber and found my place on the bench next to Platina Titiana. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of citizens crowded above us in the higher seats of the stadium, a spectacle quite distinct from the odeum of Louelle where Merphomenee and I had watched the opera together. The crowd here seemed much more raucous with strains of laughter and ever-present conversation drifting down from above, nor did people dress fancily as we had in Theraveria. No tickets were sold; Platina explained that this was a public event hosted by the goddess for the benefit of the masses, and that all food and drink were paid from the state coffers. Slaves wandered the aisles of the multitude with wine and fruit on trays, free for the taking. I understood now why this temple contained so many kitchen and bathroom facilities.

A concerted trumpet blast from a band of heralds summoned us to our feet, all rising in the presence of Merphomenee as she opened the doors from her boudoir and regally stepped out into the audience hall. Silence immediately fell. In her graceful gliding stride she crossed the vast intervening distance in just a few unhurried movements, settling down gingerly on the massive throne-like cushions so that she did not accidentally crush her caged prisoner accessories. She turned a charming smile on the assembled crowds whom she towered over, at which innumerable throats erupted in lusty cheers. The goddess lifted her hand in benediction. At a nod from her stentorian head, a herald gave the command for the immense double doors at the face of the temple to be opened.

Built of stone and Illyrican concrete, and decorated with magical crystal and gold and all kinds of polished jewels, the titanic doors groaned as they swung on ponderous hinges, strenuously pulled open outwards by teams of oxen and magical engines. The animals strained and heaved to move the enormous doors, a process that required nearly six minutes to complete before the mighty doors finally opened completely. "Let the ambassadors from Troias sally within and prostrate themselves at the feet of shining Merphomenee," the herald announced.

Far inside the audience chamber, I caught a glimpse of sunlight reflecting off gold as the first of the gift caravans assembled outside trundled in.  A murmur of astonishment rose from the throng of onlookers as teams of oxen pulled in wagons of goods. I glanced up at Merphomenee, whose face betrayed only idle curiosity at the entry of these servitors. The long approach through the packed audience chamber permitted the spectators plenty of time to see the tribute being carried to Merphomenee; my eyes must have widened as I saw cartload after cartload of vases and pottery jars and fabrics being carried past. Thrice the dignitaries of Troias made obeisance on the journey inside. When the ambassador of Troias reached the foot of Merphomenee's seat, overshadowed by her sheer stature looming above, he knelt again. The goddess languidly lowered a hand and the ambassador kissed her finger. Earlier I had learned that these tributaries were obliged to use a florid form of poetic speech common to the Illyrican epics. "Hail and well met, O farsighted daughter of Moneta! The people of Troias present to you the gifts befitting a goddess of your beauty and dignity." Platina touched my shoulder and pointed out the quartz-like crystals thrumming with magic which amplified his voice over the audience chamber. "Eighty distaffs of the finest brocade silk from the city shall adorn your body. One hundred sealed clay jars of our best wine, brewed as only Troians can brew. We offer fifty talents of gold and two hundred talents of refined silver. Ten jars of perfume distilled from the shells of oysters on the Troian coast shall be yours, and fie upon he who dares to suggest that Troian women could find better. Statues of our heroes, valiant as Mars and swift as Mercury, we shall give to beautify radiant Kircina. Hear ye nations an orison written by the leading librettist of our city, of which I shall quote but the first lines." He read out an obsequious poem full of servile flattery for Merphomenee's beauty which I shall not dignify by repeating here. "Grace us, oh flame-haired goddess, with your favor and send the gentle rains to water our fields, the calm winds to speed our ships, and protect us by your august presence," he concluded.

"This is a tribute rendered annually?" I asked Platina in amazement. Compared to the abundance of goods flowing into Merphomenee's hands - and this only the first of many! - the reparations demanded of Theraveria after the Brabantine wars seemed insultingly paltry. "What if a province refuses to render such extortionate sums?"

"Then it is placed under the wrath of the goddess," Platina told me in a hushed, horrified tone. "Other territories are forbidden to trade with it. The land is wracked by famine and drought and pestilence. Men and women perish by the thousands as grain wilts and livestock die, and furious storms and earthquakes and fires scourge the entire province. Worst of all, horrible monsters of legend begin to appear and abduct people, creeping into sanctuaries and cities - medusae, hydrae, cyclopes, and fouler creatures still. No one in living memory has been so foolish as to risk her displeasure." My eyes widened with each successive recital; Merphomenee commanded such absolute power?

Platina stopped, for the ambassador from Caesaria now made his way down the audience chamber with his wagons in tow. The Caesarians brought a gorgeous multi-colored cloth which shimmered with all the iridescent hues of the rainbow, ten lovely maidens carrying a broad swath of fabric to the amazement of the crowd. They cheered lustily for the Caesarian delegation as the ambassador presented his tribute: eighty talents of gold, several chests of polished sapphires, exotic violet flowers the size of a grapefruit specially cultivated to grow in Kircina's mild climate, barrels of ale, and amphorae filled with rich incense. Merphomenee reached down and lightly picked up the rainbow cloth, holding it up to the sunlight and admiring how it gleamed.

"That bodes well for the Caesarian delegation, Summerlyn," Platina informed me.

"She did not deign to examine any gifts from the Troian embassy personally, correct?" I guessed.

Platina nodded. "Exactly so."

The goddess neatly folded the cloth like a gigantic napkin and set it back down next to the Caesarian delegation's gifts. Having presented their tribute, the Caesarian delegation guided their carts to one side of Merphomenee's recliner, next to the Troian embassy. The sun had risen considerably and Platina took a few slices of apple from a passing servant to share with me. Eyeing Merphomenee, I had the distinct impression of a beautiful tawny cat lazily examining mice ferrying gifts to her in an effort to appease her appetite. The next party came from the southern province of Arvana, a place renowned for its magnificent forests - trees which grew so high it was said that their canopy hid Merphomenee's waist, the tallest of which might even graze her shoulder. Dozens of wains labored under the weight of fragrant sandalwood, sturdy hardwoods, cedar, pine, beech, oak, and all manner of timbers useful for construction and furniture. Platina observed that the Arvanan embassy brought the same gifts year after year and Merphomenee always accepted them, useful as wood proved for her building projects. Besides raw timber, the Arvanans also brought carved wooden sculptures, a wagon loaded with tools, and even small potted trees for Merphomenee to wear as jewelry.

To avoid wearisome repetition, my dear reader, let me say only that my eyes beheld riches beyond measure throughout that morning and afternoon as all the nations came to prostrate themselves before the goddess and beg for her blessings. Gold and silver were the most common tribute, offered in abundance by nearly all the provinces. Timber and stone too, and precious gems of all kinds, as well as magical crystals - so much so that the grand audience chamber for the temple resembled a vault filled with treasure as the assembled emissaries awaited Merphomenee's whims. I saw offerings of wheat flour and rice grains, of paper and tea, of fermented wine and ale, exotic spices such as pepper, cinnamon, and myrrh, boiled salt from the sea, bolts of cloth, furniture, musical instruments and carved game pieces, mysterious animals whose existence I had never imagined such as giraffes and zebras, skins and leathers in abundance, wool and furs, sundials and astrolabes, sculptures and paintings, poems and songs praising the goddess, books and scrolls, perfumes and dyes, alchemical potions and aetherial flasks, apothecarial concoctions and so many more gifts. Hours passed as I watched an endless train of tribute-bearing carts proceed through the audience chamber, the goddess occasionally pausing to inspect an item or two which caught her particular fancy. The enthusiasm of the crowd never seemed to abate - each new delegation aroused cheers (and jeers, if my account is to be truthful), with particular applause reserved for unique tribute that evinced imagination or a deep understanding of what Merphomenee desired.

I wondered if any of this spectacle truly pleased the goddess. All seemed quite unlike the woman I had known in Louelle who loved to discuss ideas with me and seemed to value my companionship. I tapped Platina on the shoulder and indicated the audience with a wave of my arm. "These gifts, these bribes, this ceremony of tribute ... it is all just a show for the people, is it not?"

"Panem et circenses," she replied, "you have the right of it. She enriches herself and keeps the people of Kircina pacified, does she not?"

"Why for?" I wanted to know. "A human ruler must need mollify the populace, but why a goddess whom none of us could hurt and who could destroy us all with a turn of her hand?"

Platina paused as though she had not considered that question before and then shook her head. "I do not know. You should ask the goddess. That part of her heart she keeps hidden from me."

This I had no intention of doing and I returned my attention to a new caravan moving through the great doors. After the usual litany of gifts, the Tartulian ambassador brought forth a young maiden dressed in a fine white gown, a beautiful girl with alabaster arms and classical figure, golden-haired like myself - an exceedingly rare combination of traits amongst the Illyricans. This girl curtsied demurely before Merphomenee as her provincial emissary offered her to the goddess for a vessel to inhabit, at which the audience erupted in frenzied approval. Seeing her standing so bravely in front of the goddess made me think of the other vessels I had met, wondering if they had also been presented in such a manner to become no more than human tools for Merphomenee. I could not tell from this distance but something about the maiden's manner suggested that she might be no older than I. Certainly she looked lovely enough to be a vessel for Merphomenee's tastes - and with a start I realized that of course the goddess examined humans for suitability of habitation much like a mortal woman might shop for fabric at the seamstress' boutique. Perhaps the sunlight played tricks with me, but she looked very pale as she slowly stepped away from Merphomenee to take her place with the treasures offered to the goddess.

The sun had fallen low by the time the caravans finally stopped coming in, a cool afternoon breeze wafting through the great doors. The mirrors that provided sunlight struggled to keep pace and I saw servants busily walking about to prepare great braziers if need be. Platina leaned close and confided to me, "Summerlyn, sometimes the bargaining and haggling part of this event can last all the way to midnight. If you feel tired, lean on my shoulder."

"Bargaining?" I asked, puzzled by Platina's words. It seemed natural to assume Merphomenee would accept the gifts and bestow her blessing upon the tributaries.

"Yes," Platina told me. "This is when Merphomenee begins to choose which tribute she will accept - but, I forget this is your first time witnessing these events."

"She seems interminably bored," I observed, watching the goddess for any sign of activity.

"She is not," Platina assured me. "She simply does not wish to betray her intentions of whom she will accept."

Silence fell over the assembly as Merphomenee stood up, forcing me to crane my neck to observe her face. In the expectant quiet which followed, all eyes fixed upon the gorgeous goddess as she languidly strolled around her cushion, gazing down at the caravans of goods presented to her. I held my breath in anticipation; whose offerings would be accepted first? Which province would be spared the terror of her displeasure, still so fresh in my mind? Had Merphomenee succeeded in stepping into Theraveria, would M. the brother of the king be amid their number now leading offerings of the best we had to sacrifice? What did we even possess that could compare to the riches brought here?

Merphomenee halted before the delegation from Greater Kalesca. The tension increased to palpable levels. She seemed to linger deep in thought, but she turned and walked on.

She halted in front of the Caesarian delegation. Platina and I clutched each other, breathless with expectancy. The Caesarian ambassador's face had turned mortellement pâle.

Merphomenee inclined her great head once, the cage earrings rudely jostling their occupants. I saw the ambassador exhale a deep sigh of relief as the trumpets sounded and the herald announced, "The most beneficent goddess accepts the tribute from verdant Caesaria." Deafening roars of acclaim immediately rose from the throng of spectators, interspersed with a few groans from those who had wagered against Merphomenee's acceptance. The fates of entire territories hung on Merphomenee's quickening nod or frown of disapproval ... and the populace of Kircina treated it as a diversionary amusement for gambling purposes. I felt sickened by their callousness.

As the exuberant Caesarian delegation was led away by Merphomenee's slaves and their offerings moved into storage, the goddess slowly made another circuit of the riches assembled before her feet. Audience members shouted suggestions up at the regal goddess, bidding her accept this tribute or that. As though a floodgate of tension had burst, now the crowd excitedly called for Merphomenee's favor towards the various factions. The goddess even looked up and smiled in amusement, prompting cries of joy from her audience. She selected the delegation from Decapolis to another swell of acclaim. I must confess to being nearly swept away in the excitement of the horde, forgetting the deadly stakes at play.

Merphomenee circled unhurriedly around her cushion again and I wondered why she hesitated to choose. Any of these tributes would have enriched Theraveria immeasurably. The ardor of the spectators quickly cooled and again we returned to watching the goddess with bated breath as she continued to consider. After a few minutes spent with Merphomenee haughtily glancing down, she abruptly returned to her throne and seated herself on the couch. Murmurs of discontent flickered through the audience though none dared voice their displeasure volubly. Immediately the remaining emissaries ran with all haste to the base of Merphomenee's throne and flung themselves at her feet, pleading with her to reconsider and bathing her feet in kisses. Gasps of horror arose from the spectators surrounding us.

"Now the bargaining begins," Platina noted grimly.

The roar of the crowd drowned out the frantic cries of the ambassadors, but I gathered from their prostrate body language that they begged Merphomenee to accept their gifts. I tugged on the sleeve of Platina's stola. "Are they trying to change her mind?" I asked, shouting to be heard above the din.

"Yes. And they are offering her more presents to sway her into accepting them. They understand the awful consequences if she does not." Platina nervously bit her lower lip.

Merphomenee raised one massive hand and the audience instantly fell silent, allowing us to hear the magically amplified voices of the men groveling before her. "One hundred talents of silver!" "Banquets in Your Divine Grace's honor, held monthly - no, weekly!" "We will erect a statue of Your Divine Grace in the capital square!" "Two cartloads of tiger skins!" Each individual shouted in an effort to be heard above the others while the impassive goddess stared down as if daring them to impress her.

After a few tense minutes the goddess accepted the gifts proffered by the party of distant Thessalia, although not before the intimidated ambassador had been obligated to add a dozen crates of tea leaves and weekly burnt sacrifices in Merphomenee's honor to his bribes. A few men in the crowd shouted to her to take this delegation's tribute or the other's. Watching Merphomenee accept a few more offers, I learned the elegantly devious way she forced these unfortunate souls to play her lethal game: each time the bidding restarted to the initial tribute brought by a delegation in the opening train, but the subsequent round of bargaining raised the stakes required to satisfy her further. Merphomenee's method interposed these hapless dignitaries between two contrary conditions to fulfill, namely attempting to offer enough to satisfy the unpredictable goddess and remove themselves from further negotiations without bankrupting themselves with burdensome tribute. Overtures of the wrong gifts could self-sabotage an emissary and condemn him to more bargaining, requiring these personages to guess the goddess' whims. I asked Platina if this placed poorer provinces at a disadvantage, but she said no: the goddess carefully weighed a territory's total wealth and production capacity as part of her calculations. I found this a surprisingly equitable consideration for such an unjust duty.

I saw a desperate emissary reduced to tears and struggling to maintain his poetic oration as he offered twenty daughters of the city's leading families to Merphomenee as slaves. She rejected his pleas regardless and chose the gifts from Arvana instead after nearly doubling the timber it would be required to sacrifice. My heart twisted in my breast at Merphomenee's callous cruelty, seeing these brave men and women abandoning all dignity with increasingly vain efforts to protect their own lands at exorbitant cost. It was a pitiful sight indeed, one I hoped never to witness again long before the event ended, made so much worse by the way that the throng of spectators shouted in favor of one delegation or another as though cheering for the chariot races. I tried to slip away once during a visit to the bathroom only for one of the goddess' liveried slaves to politely and firmly inform me that my presence was required in the grand atrium. Even after the sun had fallen and plunged the chamber into darkness, lamp light provided by great oil braziers and reflected by mirrors illuminated the relentless proceedings. Sometimes the goddess hinted to one party or another what guerdon she desired of them. When Merphomenee at last deigned to accept the Tartulian emissary's gifts, the statuesque girl I had seen earlier curtsied to the goddess on trembling knees with tears running unabashedly down her cheeks. As well she might - all of her absent sisters had also been annexed to the tribute pile.

"These poor, pitiable people," I murmured to Platina as the Tartulian emissary sadly led the weeping maiden away. Even the ardor of the bloodthirsty Kircina horde seemed absent this time. I heard a few sympathetic murmurs follow her out of the audience hall. "What will happen to her now?"

Platina clutched the folds of her robe as the few remaining ambassadors began to raise their bids again. "They will in likelihood all be sent back to Tartulia as instruments of Merphomenee's will, inhabited by her spirit until their beauty has faded away and she discards them. Of course, they will be too old by then to marry. The goddess' vessels are always treated with the utmost respect even when their services are concluded and they will want for nothing - but do you not think their fate a pitiable one?"

I thought of my own mother then and the horror with which she regarded a woman's inability to marry. Lady Renia too - what would happen to her, marooned in Theraveria past the age that girls were wed? And Platina Titiana, also used by Merphomenee but whom I had rarely seen inhabited by the goddess - was she free to marry? Mother considered a woman without children to be the greatest tragedy of all. The roar of the crowd pulled my attention back to the farcical ceremony and the author of all this misery reclining on her cushion, self-assured in her utter invincibility. For the first time I felt hatred for Merphomenee take hold of my heart, motivated by a decidedly un-aristocratic sentiment of solidarity with my fellow man in the face of her divine oppression. A sentiment that Merphomenee herself had inculcated within me by her assiduous attention to my education in Louelle.

At last the goddess had winnowed the field of her supplicants down to a duet of final contenders: the provinces of Troias and Cyrenica. The Cyrenican ambassador spoke first, opening with an oleaginous panegyric which flattered Merphomenee's supposed wisdom in saving their gifts for the last. The crowd cheered enthusiastically as the ambassador declaimed the gifts to be added as tribute. "Hear me, O munificent Muse, that you may know how Cyrenica wishes to honor you! Fifty great jars of the purest oil pressed from the olive, to be delivered without delay to the lovely feet of the most beautiful goddess of Illyrica. Fifty cauldrons of brass we offer, each fit to hold a bull, and fifty steeds renowned for speed to add to your herds. Two score jars of the fruit of the vine distilled to a brew fit even for the cherry-stained lips of a goddess! And should these not suffice to turn your righteous anger, oh noblest of Muses, we shall give a score talents of gold to dedicate a fine temple in a populous city of your choosing: whether it be fair Bardamyle, or Luvenia of the grasses, or Phinos by the endless sea, that city shall be named Merphomenea in your honor. Let Cyrenica hold you in esteem, oh bright-eyed goddess, for we shall be far more profitable in this wise to perpetually honor your famed beauty."

"Cyrenica! Cyrenica! Cyrenica!" the populace of Kircina cheered lustily.

Then the emissary of Troia made his speech to the goddess. "O illustrious goddess of inspiration, Moneta's golden daughter, Troias has offered you her humble presents. Let it not be said that Troians are parsimonious in the rendering of gifts, for you know, O exalted Muse, that Troians are ever wont to be first in the hecatombs tendered to the gods, in the smoky offerings of thighbones girt with fat, in the worship offered by our multitudinous supplicants! Now we are ashamed to meet your bright eyes, gracious goddess, with our gifts long denied when it has been your custom to accept our tribute first -"

"A blatant mistruth," Platina remarked sardonically.

"- and the glory of Troias to stand before all others in favor found. Rich gifts we shall offer to remedy our deficiencies. Besides the unworthy presents we have already brought, we shall give you seven Troian women most skilled in fine needlepoint who shall weave and sew all that your heart desires. You shall have fifty brocades of inestimable Troian silk dyed purple, often imitated but never equaled. Ten of the finest Troian triremes, crewed at Troian expense, shall be placed at the disposal of Illyrica for seaborne trade. Goldsmiths we shall employ, to fashion a tiara befitting your majesty, oh green-eyed goddess. So too shall our leading men and women honor you, that every daughter born to us with your hair of flame shall be assembled on the year of her fifteenth birthday. She who is adjudged fairest, as Venus herself, her hands as skilled as those of subtle Minerva, she also shall take the cognomen of Merphomenea. As Troian actors are acclaimed the finest of those who delight in your rule we shall hold a contest to compose a play in your honor, and it shall be shown for a full hundred days in Kircina by the finest performers of Troias. Hearken unto our plea, gracious goddess of inspiration, turn your deadly frown from our lands and favor us with your quickening smile."

Now the crowd lay evenly divided in their opinions, with shouts of "Troias!" matched by cries of "Cyrenica!" Half the audience wished for Merphomenee to choose one land and half wished for her to choose the other. I watched in tense anticipation, uncertain to whom Merphomenee would give her nod. Sensing her hesitance, the Cyrenican emissary again offered even more: a flock of exotic birds for the city menagerie and fragrant oils to anoint the goddess. Not to be outdone, the Troian emissary counteroffered a weeklong public festival in her honor wherein a thousand cattle were to be sacrificed for public consumption. The Cyrenican paled at this offer, and quickly added another thirty talents of silver. The Troian responded by offering a hundred talents of silver with ten vats of dried figs. Desperate, the Cyrenican begged Merphomenee to take the sons of their king as her personal slaves even as shouts of "Cyrenica!" dwindled away.

"Troias! Troias! Troias!" The roar of the crowd grew deafening.

"I have decided," Merphomenee intoned. Silence instantly fell. She fixed her gaze down at the two men groveling before her throne, both of them tense with dread. "And I accept the present brought by Troias."

I saw the Troian ambassador's shoulders slump visibly in relief. I also heard an agonized shriek of despair from the Cyrenican ambassador, audible even over the tumult of the audience, before he fainted cleanly onto the floor and had to be carried away by Merphomenee's slaves. Having made her decision, the goddess rose august and vanished back into her room without another word. I felt dazed by how nonchalantly she had decided the fate of an entire land and had no desire to attend her, so I lingered in the atrium even as the crowds began to rapidly trickle out through the immense doors into the cold of the night. How could I help but pity the Cyrenicans? Unable to stand the sight of the heartless goddess anymore, I left Platina and followed the throng of people outside.

But when I crossed the threshold of the temple vestibule, I stepped directly into Merphomenee's bedroom instead of outside with everyone else. How she did this to me I have no idea; perhaps magic truly is the language of creation as she told me. Disoriented, I whirled around to see the way I had just walked in and nearly stepped facefirst into a solid wall. The goddess had seated herself in front of me and carefully unhooked the decorative cages from her sash and ears, the prisoners within no doubt wracked by thirst. The woman who had been promised earlier to her as a vessel also stood next to me, her composure brave but her cheeks caked with dried mascara where her tears had run. "I shall visit Phinos, a charming Cyrenican city, an hour after the sun rises upon her shores," Merphomenee informed us. "You two shall accompany me."

We looked at least other uncertainly and I spoke up. My mind reeled from the overwhelming memory of the appalling ceremony I had just witnessed. "But ... goddess, please, we are both tired and in need of repose ..."

Merphomenee thought for a moment and stepped away, bringing back the matching shoe to my own slipper bed and setting it next to mine. "Summerlyn, show Leannia to her bed." There being no help for it, I took this new vessel - Leannia Aenilia Secunda - and brought her next to the ornate slipper. I showed her the best way to climb the jewels and filigree on the exterior flank and how to bed herself down inside the toebox. Like my berth, hers carried the aroma of finished leather and plainly had never been used by the goddess. Tucked in the enclosure between vamp and sole out of sight of Merphomenee, the lovely girl threw her arms around me and wept bitterly. Tears sprang unbidden to my eyes too as I embraced her, lamenting the cruel events which had condemned her to become a pawn for Merphomenee.

Weary as we felt, Leannia and I began to talk, as women naturally will when left alone. She conjured light to illuminate our small alcove, a painful reminder to me that I had been injured too severely to use magic again. We heard Merphomenee giving instructions to her slaves and Leannia must have noted with horror the way I flinched at the sound of Merphomenee's voice. I narrated for her the long story of how I had come to know the goddess and to find myself in Illyrica from my own world. She told me her tale as well: the second of four daughters, she had been brought up in carefree liberty in the mountainous province of Tartulia. Her schooling was light and pleasant, her family wanted for no luxury, and she often traveled to other cities. She knew of Merphomenee and the servitude in which her people were held, of course, but she had never seen the goddess before nor had Tartulia suffered one of the goddess' rampages during her lifetime. Last year however Tartulia had paid an outrageous tribute to avert Merphomenee's attention and the rulers of the province decided that a beautiful virgin would need to be sacrificed to the goddess' pleasure. She told me how she and her sisters all drew lots to decide who would be offered and how she had been chosen. The idea that her sisters would join her in Kircina comforted her somewhat. "Why should they not drink the same bitter draught I am forced to swallow?" she asked darkly.

She and I passed hours in solitude, talking quietly long after midnight, nor did Merphomenee interrupt us. I washed away the mascara stains from Leannia's lovely cheeks. When her eyes drooped, I placed her head in my bosom and let her drift away to sleep, plunging our bed into darkness save for the flickering lamplight which drifted into our sanctuary. Merphomenee peeked in once and I looked up fearfully at the goddess, but she merely smiled and gently patted the shoe with her great hand in benediction. I gazed after the goddess confused, still terrified of her wrath and yet wistful for her companionship. How I longed to see her fond smile turned on me again, to curl up in her warm hand and let her hold me, protected from the entire world! I fell asleep next to Leannia in the shoe as we drifted together in sweet dreams' embrace.

Merphomenee worked her subtle enchantments upon us in our repose.

I opened my eyes. I stood in a small, enclosed room with marble tiled floors and flickering lights made by burning oil lamps, a luxurious white silk stola hanging from one of my shoulders and neatly folded around my waist, leaving my arms and ankles and feet exposed. On my feet I wore a beautiful pair of cothurni, the high-laced buskins of actresses in tragic drama, laboriously worked from the hides of behemoths. An ornate girdle around my slender waist held the folds of my robe, flattering my graceful figure and supporting my bountiful breasts. My slaves scurried like busy ants about my feet, placing the finishing touches of my appearance in preparation for my arrival in Cyrenica; from time to time one would climb onto my toes to paint my nails. In one corner of the room there lay a pair of beautiful Theraverian slippers made for my feet in which slept Summerlyn Katalina and Leannia Aenilia, my adorable little pets. I brushed a lock of my rich scarlet hair out of my vision as I admired myself in the looking-glass, smiling at a beautiful face not my own. I felt marvelously complete, self-assured in my divine power, immense strength, and matchless beauty. What words can fully describe the august majesty of the goddess? With my white arm I felt that I could seize the moon from her austere throne in the heavens upon my whim, or plumb the deepest recesses of the ocean should I fancy. Merphomenee's flawless lips opened as I spoke to myself in her voice.

"The time has come. Prepare yourselves to descend upon Phinos with me, Summerlyn and Leannia."

ACT II: La calamité des indésirables

Cyrenica lies over ten thousand stadia east of Illyrica and the sky over Kircina was still dark when I took a single step that brought me to the Cyrenican city of Phinos. When I say "I", of course, I really mean that Merphomenee did it. Leannia and I were trapped in her flesh, our own bodies slumbering insensate in her slipper left back in Kircina, and we could not so much as blink of our volition. Such a marvelous miracle of joining mortal to goddess could only have been accomplished by Merphomenee's will. The sun had just risen over Phinos, casting rosy hues of vermilion and orange over the city. From this height I could see for many stadia all around for even the tallest of trees did not brush my hips. I ran my fingers gently through the crowns of the trees as though they were stalks of wheat, feeling the leaves tickling my tips. A soft sea breeze flowed from Neptune's vast ocean, caressing my skin and gliding through my hair. Merphomenee's divine vision perceived details more sharply than any human eye, her keen ears more sensitive than any mortal's. At my feet sprawled the city of Phinos, measuring some four hundred hectares in size.

Without a word, I began to destroy Phinos.

The capital and administrative heart of Cyrenica lay in another city, but I later discovered that Phinos constituted an important center of trade and business. Situated behind a deep lagoon where enormous seaborne caravals brought goods from all over the world, it boasted a population of over a hundred thousand housed in a multitude of white plaster domiciles. I placed my elegant buskin on one and flattened it without effort, crushing the fragile house and all of its inhabitants in a puff of dust. The ground shook under my step; if my long shadow did not serve to alert the citizens of my arrival, the shockwave of my step did. Immediately I saw hundreds of citizens thronging the streets scream and bolt away, many attempting to flee from my feet while a few sought shelter. Their distant shrieks of fear sounded hollow from the intervening distance, pitiful cries carried away by the wind as often as not. Immediate panic descended upon the entire city, knowing that their unpredictable goddess had chosen Phinos for annihilation. Their tribute this year must have been rejected then! "Goddess, have mercy upon us! We shall give you all we have!" came the forlorn pleading of a picayune voice near my feet. Without even sparing the supplicant a glance, I turned my foot and crushed her.

What need had I for haste? With another languid step my foot gouged a deep furrow into the earth which overturned half a dozen houses, concrete and plaster crumbling alike as though no more solid than powder. I stepped upon a brewery next to these homes and wine splashed out underneath my shoe as hundreds of barrels burst from the immense weight, soaking the rubble in pungent alcohol. One more step brought me before an altar where the augurs had consulted the bones of birds and prophesied a year of continued prosperity for Phinos. My amused and contemptuous scorn accompanied a sweep of my foot which overturned the sacrificial dais, crushing the brick and concrete to dust. I carefully tucked a stray strand of my scarlet hair behind my ear, reveling in the calamity. Besides the terror of the humans, I heard the frantic bleating of penned sheep intermixed with the panic-stricken neighing of horses and the braying of tethered donkeys. All the animals had been driven mad with fear at my perfumed scent, or else they had absorbed the consternation of the mortals. My foot descended upon an enclosed courtyard where a young shepherdess vainly attempted to console her goats and geese, reducing their cacophony to a stain of blood on my sole.

I felt completely intoxicated by my dominance.

Men pleaded in vain on their knees for my clemency. A father attempted to offer his pretty young daughter to me; my foot accepted both their lives. Dust rose in my destructive wake where edifices had crumbled beneath my onslaught, massive craters several paces deep in the shape of my feminine shoes marking my path. Families huddled fearfully in cellars to evade my fury, cringing at every footfall of mine. I gracefully wended my way down to the harbor piers where frantic citizens screamed for equally frantic sailors to bear them to safety, a colossus gliding swanlike through feeble human constructions before me. The trapped men offered anything - their entire fortunes, their daughters, even themselves as slaves - but my arrival peremptorily ended negotiations when my foot descended on the pier, crushing dozens while the more fortunate scattered into the briny embrace of Neptune. A few triremes had cast off under sail or rowers while the ships already at sea hastened to flee. Heedless of the water, I waded into the harbor and overturned the wooden vessels with an amused smile, letting the sailors fall into the ocean as their toy ships capsized. Most Phinoan mariners could not even swim, the fortunate ones struggling in the waves while the less fortunate floated ashore to face my continuing rampage.

A few enterprising young men avoided drowning by clinging to my stola, only to fall off with despairing wails as I rose out of the sea like Venus at her birth. Wet from the knees down, my robes dripped seawater onto the chaotic streets as I lifted an elegant shoe and brought it down upon the remaining docks. With egress from the sea now severed, the people of Phinos could only flee landward. I saw vultures flocking to feast upon the trampled bodies left in my wake, daring to brave the clouds of dust which rose from the city. All year I had awaited this opportunity; now that the designated day had arrived, would I not take my time to savor the entertainment? Their feeble attempts to halt my progress tickled my skin; really, simply the idea of how helpless they were aroused me, powerless and at my mercy for aught I cared to do. I stepped into a market where the fleeing throng had abandoned their wares; fruits, vegetables, pottery, furniture, and fish all vanished into a pulped mass beneath my cothurni. The mortals who fled found that they could not outrun me, perishing by the dozens with every erratic step of mine. Those who concealed themselves fared little better - with all of my long experience at this game, how could I not know their most favored hiding places? Some of them begged or tried to flatter me, also to no avail, nor did their bribes move my heart. Their ambassador had his chance to offer more; now regret availed them nothing.

Various roads of Illyrican concrete branched out from the city, forming avenues of escape. I leisurely stepped upon one as a pair of horse-drawn wagons futilely attempted to evade my foot, driving a rut into the road that immediately ruined wheeled traffic. More houses vanished beneath my stride, sparing neither rich nor poor. The hovels on the shore broke into splinters and driftwood. The manors on the hills I reduced to rubble of rocks and timbers. Nor did I spare the statues dedicated to the heroes and gods of Phinos, tilting over a knee-height sculpture of Neptune with a casual brush of my calf. The body shattered into fragments of stone with his signature trident broken. Decorative trees also vanished beneath my tread, breaking into splintered trunks with twisted, mangled branches. With my toe I pressed a man against a house wall until his body crumbled from the pressure.

Fires had broken out in half a dozen places in the city, mingling dust with smoke and obscuring my vision of the devastation that I wrought. Tragedy followed wherever I trod: I heard mothers weeping over the broken corpses of their sons, husbands grieving for wives and wives crying for their husbands, masters and slaves vainly laboring to console each other. Phinos bled white beneath my invincible feet. The palatial mansion of the city governor had been evacuated before my arrival, showing that the man had the sense to leave in case the Cyrenicans found no favor with me. His opulent manor did not fare as well, a single step of mine crushing half of the domicile into pebbles and killing half the unfortunate slaves he had charged with its upkeep in his absence. The polished marble courtyard spiderwebbed into a thousand cracks from the impact of my feet. I applied my weight behind my shoes, fracturing the expensive lawn beyond repair.

The city stables housed hundreds of fine steeds. Some thoughtful citizen had opened the corrals to free them, with the result that unbridled horses stampeded in panic down the streets. I lifted my foot and placed it on the stable, driving it into the ground with the result that a single gaping crater in the shape of a woman's foot marred the structure. Stallions and mares crazed by fear milled in confusion, crushed by my tread or crippled if they managed to avoid being stepped upon entirely. Men and women and children were trapped in the rubble of the city's destruction. I set my sight on the city granaries next, those rich towers filled with flour and fish and salted meats. They rose to my knees and presented no challenge, crumbling as easily as the other edifices in this feeble city. Edible goods spilled over the roads covering the stones in nuts and fruits and meat, only to be grounded together into paste by my next callous step. Clouds of flour immediately mingled with the smoke and dust pervading the streets.

With the granaries leveled, I turned to the massive city amphitheater which easily seated twenty thousand men at its fullest. Men screamed and threw themselves out of my way as I strolled to the theater, more apartments and houses obliterated where my feet broke through their walls. Three quick steps from me crushed much of the seating into rocky debris and left deep cracks in the remaining stone. The nearby urban bathhouse boasted clean water until I too stepped upon it and destroyed the facility, catching a few misfortunate citizens who had tried to shelter within. Next to the bath, the public forum formed a wide open space central to the city's political life. I left a few footsteps embedded in the floor and countless cracks.

I paused to admire my handiwork. Thousands must have perished already, so sudden and ruinous was my arrival, and the city would already require years to recover from the property damage. The lasting wound left on the psyche might never heal at all, adding another chapter to the legend of Merphomenee's rampages. The sun had risen high, its rays obscured by the copious amounts of dust and smoke thrown up by my passage. I reveled in my strength and size, but I hardly felt satiated yet. A single apartment left standing between two of my enormous footprints now vanished as I lowered my shoe upon it. A local prefecture followed in quick order, along with a pottery shop and a winepress. Some thoughtful patrician had dedicated a statue to Mercury, god of commerce, in years past on this street; I now availed myself of his generosity to flatten it beneath my boot, savoring how it crumbled like brittle cake beneath my weight.

I found some blind and lame beggars in the city slums and granted them the honor of expiring beneath my feet. A few merchants and athletes caught in the open met the same fate, as did many citizens who hid in their homes praying for me to overlook them. Some even tried to fight, hopeless though any resistance was. A particularly brave young girl threw rocks at my feet with tears in her eyes and I trod upon her with some regret, extinguishing her family line. When I kicked over the city treasury, millions of denarii scattered over the ruined stones of the city streets. The greedy citizens who paused to snatch up loose coins regretted their avarice in the afterlife to which I sped them, their mangled bodies flattened next to the money they coveted. I strolled through the city aqueducts as well and they spilled water into the streets as their elaborate columned arches crumbled from impact. Water from the city reservoirs erupted from pipes that burst beneath my ponderous weight, soaking the rubble of the city and mingling with the flames that licked hungrily at anything which burned.

Gardens with beautiful trees and flowers suffered from my stride, their careful landscaping ruined by feminine footprints pressed into the soft earth. Schools of rhetoric and grammar and art vanished too, in one case with many pupils who vainly hid inside from my rampage. A famous philosopher from Phinos perished beneath my tread, as did a courtesan renowned for her charms. Illustrious as they might be in their respective fields, today and to me they were but two more statistics sacrificed to my unbridled power. Human sacrifices all, more substantial and more gratifying than any number of animals offered to me on the altar. I stepped upon a library full of scrolls where a few men had sheltered themselves, and I also reduced the nearby temple to Ceres to its foundations.

A smile flitted about my face as I wandered around the city, destroying edifices I might have spared on a whim earlier in my rampage. I followed no plan, letting inspiration guide my heavy footsteps and savoring the terrified screams of men and animals helpless before my feet. My robes had dried now, and I summoned the sailing ships fleeing on the ocean back to the city by forcing a contrary wind to sweep them to me. A few wrecked on the rocks around the harbor, spilling men and goods out. One ship I simply picked up cleanly out of the sea, carrying it and the terrified occupants inland until I raised the vessel above my head and released it over a warehouse full of goods. They pleaded earnestly with me to spare them, and they shrieked in abject fear as I dropped them. In fascination I watched the ship slowly descend until the hull crashed through the roof and splashed into splinters.

Some of the citizens who had survived my now stained soles found themselves seized in my grip where I reached down and grasped them between my fingers. Men and women alike wailed in fear, quailing before my majesty as they pleaded to be spared. They offered their wealth, their worship, their families and their dignity, but I simply crushed them all in my hand. At random I seized fistfuls of Phinoans who screamed in panic as I stained my hands with their blood, sparing none except a single elderly matron whom I recognized as a former vessel of mine. She alone I set down covered in gore but unharmed, indicating with a glance that she should flee. She hobbled away with entrails dripping from her stola; there were none brave enough to aid her. Carrion birds wheeled over the city and descended to engorge themselves on the rich feast set out for their kind. I scooped another handful, this time mostly of slaves to the wealthy patrician families. One by one I dropped them screaming out of my hand and their bodies shattered against the debris at my feet. Before you ask why I did not swallow some, foolish reader, consider whether you yourself pluck up unwashed rodents from the gutter to ingest?

How I reveled in the destruction! The chorus of grief that rose up around me sounded sweeter to my ears than any theatrical song. What beauty of nature, however profound, could compare to the devastation wrought by my own two hands and feet? How could human ingenuity, mortal engineering, or their limited understanding of magic offer the least resistance to my divine might?

I have said before that I do not wish to weary my readers by banal repetitions in my account, but let me be pardoned on this occasion. To be drunk with power is far more intoxicating than the sweetest of wine or the strongest of mead. Every column I ripped out of its foundation, every edifice I crushed beneath my foot into dust, every mortal who perished at my whim filled me with ecstasy beyond words. This happened because I willed it so. One hundred thousand men in Phinos, three million men in Cyrenica had tried to avert this catastrophe to their homes - and not one iota of their effort made any difference, merely because a single woman decided contrariwise. A snap of my fingers would bury the entire province in ice if I wished, or a mere nod reduce it to a scorched desert. These miserable mortals lived entirely at my pleasure and perished at it too. My entire world lay prostrate and helpless before me. Imagine a planet trembling forever at a woman's touch if you wish to understand humanity's future in Illyrica. I had nearly succeeded in exporting this ghastly fate to Theraveria as well.

Theraveria ...

The memory of it rankled me. How close I had come to rising out of the gate which I had deceived those foolish mortals into building! How cleverly I had beguiled them into expending enormous money and effort on hastening their own doom! And how swiftly my elaborate plans had fallen apart at the hands of a treacherous vessel and an innocent princess. I sank into reverie for a moment, ignoring the destruction of Phinos around me, the screams of the frightened, the moans of the dying, the flames and the floods and the dust and the carnage. My elegant stola swayed in the noontime breeze as sunlight glinted off my scarlet hair. For a moment I thought of reaching across the vast empyrean void between the worlds - a feat which would require considerable effort even for my matchless power - to inhabit Renia Sundalicia, a puppet whose strings I had not pulled since that fateful day. If she had forgotten her terror at my dominance, I could remind her with but an effort of will.

No, that would not do.

Revenge should be left to ripen, to mature until age and anticipation rendered it all the sweeter. A kernel of an idea formed in my mind ... but before I could fully grasp it, it vanished into the recesses of Merphomenee's thoughts. An abrupt reminder that I was but a visitor in her flesh and spirit, even if I lay immersed in her sensations and emotions.

I felt a flash of her irritation directed at me. To be thwarted by Summerlyn, a speck of a princess no more resilient than the thousands dying in Phinos. And this after all the pains I had taken to free her mind of its gilded shackles, inspiring her with the possibilities of how much more she could learn and achieve! How dare she repay my efforts so? I should return to Kircina after my little jaunt through this city and terrify her into frightened subservience. I should make her my lowest slave and burden her with the most humiliating tasks, prostituting her before Illyrica's worst men. I should tear her soul from her body and sentence her to an eternity of torment in my all-consuming appetite!

... I missed our long talks and the way her conversations rapidly became more sophisticated with nuance. I yearned to relive how she and I would gossip about men and fashion like two sisters. I wanted to see again how her eyes brightened with understanding when I helped her comprehend magic, and I dearly wished I could hold her safe again in my palm after her self-immolation. I desired to keep her protected in my hand, my fingers strong enough to shield her tiny, fragile existence from the entire world. I longed to nurture her once more with the milk of my own breast and to see how she delighted at my presence, trusting me so implicitly that she would simply fall asleep in my grasp. Unlike the current day where she fled from my face and whimpered in fear before me. Summerlyn, why does the heart of a goddess find you a kindred spirit as she has found few others?

Why did I loathe she whom I cherished?

Why did I cherish she whom I loathed?

Lost in thought amidst the destruction of this mortal metropolis, why could I no longer conceal these musings from the two women confined in my mind? What did I truly wish for? How could a simple mortal girl cause such confusion in me? I, who had ruled Illyrica for countless years until I reached out and touched another world beyond my own, a world so different that fascination instantly seized me. My guard had fallen and in this moment of - weakness? Clarity? Honesty? - I let Summerlyn and Leannia peer into my heart. Once I had counseled Summerlyn to discover her identity and now I struggled with my own! I had to understand who I was. My essence, the part of my eternal and unchanging nature no matter what I might experience: Merphomenee, daughter of Jupiter and Moneta, the tragedienne of the nine Muses.

Tragedy is what I inspire in poets and artists, for it is the deepest emotion which moves my spirit. In my sculptures I am often depicted holding a tragic mask to shield my face. How can I claim to animate the hearts of mere mortals if I do not immerse myself in my own tragedies?

Now I knew what I must do.

I felt Merphomenee's mind and heart close to me again, concealing her innermost desires as her attention returned to the ill-fated habitations of men. Surveying the ruined city from my height, I peered through the smoke and dust for any conspicuous parts of the city I might have missed. A few dwellings and edifices would be spared entirely on my whim, left standing so that the hapless Phinoans could rebuild around them. A beautiful temple complex stood on the highest hill outside of the city limits proper, a steady stream of terrified refugees fleeing within for shelter from me. Daintily I picked up my skirts and sauntered towards the temple as my shoes and feet crushed a rubble-strewn path for me. A statue of me stood outside the prominent columns with hundreds of wailing survivors prostrate before it in fear, invoking all the gods for succor: my mighty father, his wife, and the other pantheonic divinities. This shrine was the largest of the city; naturally it had been dedicated to me when it was built. I could not remember the details of when Phinos had began construction, recalling only that the Cyrenicans had reserved a great deal of money to build this lavish temple in an attempt to curry favor with me during a tributary bid. How long ago had it been?

The wretched masses of humanity screamed and shrieked in terror as my approach became apparent. Most of them retreated under the roofs of the temple, which I noted had shingles of gold and two massive brass bulls outside the portico bearing an enormous bowl of copper on their backs. Pitiful Phinoans, undertaking so much time and expense to construct a massive temple for me, one that I had never bothered to set eyes on before today. The shrine covered enough space that it would probably occupy most of the floor in my bedchamber in Kircina. A few brave souls clung to the knee-height statue of me outside the temple itself, staring up fearfully at me. They claimed succor under my aegis by hiding in my sanctuary, forgetting an important detail: aid is mine to give or withhold as I please.

Magic flowed through me, sealing off the temple entrances with intangible, impenetrable walls.

As much as I admired the workmanship of the carved idol bearing my name and image, I lifted my foot and crushed it into rubble beneath my bloodstained sole, destroying years of work by dozens of skilled sculptors in a violent instant. Horrified screams cut off in a moment with the sudden descent of my sole extinguishing a dozen supplicants. The crowds in the temple watched in dismay, their frantic cries redoubling in urgency as they found themselves trapped inside. Looming over the temple, I paused to admire the fine architecture and the expensive upholstery. Clearly the Phinoans had spared no expense for my temple, so I felt grateful for the chance to behold its beauty before it vanished forever after today.

I gathered my skirts and seated myself on the roof, which caved beneath my ponderous weight immediately and brought the heavy dome crashing down on the confined throngs of Phinoan citizens. Piteously they wailed and begged for clemency, crying out to me that they would give whatever I wished to halt my destruction. I ignored their bleating and caught up a handful of mortals, pretending to examine them for a moment before my fist abruptly tightened, instantly reducing them into a puddle of bloody gore. Mothers tearfully embraced terrified children as I insouciantly swept my legs to crush crowds of people against the ornate walls. I rolled a few intact stone columns over the floors which pulverized the victims into broken corpses. The sun had fallen to mid-afternoon by this time as I nonchalantly decimated the survivors who had sought refuge in my temple. I knew I would leave a scant number of survivors, I simply did not care whom they might be.

Seated in the rubble of the shrine and disinterestedly watching my suffering citizens still pathetically trying to appeal to my mercy, I placed my foot on one person or another from time to time to hear their frightened cries. Gradually their urgent screams tapered into resigned sobbing and sniffling as I made few movements, content to simply immerse myself in the suffering I had authored today. As the sun kissed the horizon in preparation for its descent, I gathered the few frightened remainder who had endured my rampage and spoke to them the only words I had uttered since my arrival in Phinos. I kept my voice gentle and measured to reassure them that their peril had indeed passed. "Rebuild this city," I commanded them, "greater and more beautiful than I found it today." Only then did I permit them to leave the wreckage of the shrine and the thousands of corpses I had made within its walls.

I stood to brush the crumbs of stone and rubble which nestled in the folds of my robes. Most of the bloodstains had faded from bright red to rusty hues, leaving the skirts of my stola torn and tarnished. I paused to take in one last look at Phinos where dust covered the rubble and dozens of fires flickered fitfully among the wreckage. Satisfied with my handiwork, I took a single step which brought me back to my chamber in Kircina, the ambient heat of the air immediately changing to cool scented atmosphere. Summerlyn and Leannia still slept in my slipper. I smiled fondly at their minuscule bodies tucked inside the alcove of my shoe as I sent their spirits back to their flesh.

Immediately I started awake and my head collided against the interior vamp of Merphomenee's heeled pump, causing pain to lance down my spine. Leannia bolted upright as well. "Did we just -" she exclaimed.

"- watch her destroy Phinos?" I cried, horrified by the experience and how utterly powerless I had been to stop it. Worse, I touched Merphomenee's emotions - I felt intimately how much she enjoyed the experience, feeling her exhilaration with every destructive step and her ecstasy with each extinguished life. Merphomenee's great emerald eye appeared over our heads and we both screamed in terror, Leannia and I clinging tightly to each other like the pitiful victims who had just perished underneath her soles.

But the goddess merely picked our bed up and turned it, spilling me onto her soft palm and Leannia atop me. We saw then that she had already removed her cothurni, her slaves carrying her great buskins out on oxcarts. On bare feet she padded out of her private boudoir while Leannia and I clutched each other, feeling dizzied by the sheer height now that we no longer occupied Merphomenee's gigantic body. She brought us to a separate room where she often bathed, a massive cistern that dwarfed the Goddess' Gate in Louelle built into the floor and filled with water. Here she undressed, removing her disheveled stola and her girdle to bare her flesh. She immersed herself into the pool with a blissful sigh of contentment; Leannia and I she placed on half of a large seashell which floated in the water.

"Goddess. Why?" I asked, my voice breaking from the tragedy I had witnessed. But I already deduced the answer.

Merphomenee let her hair soak in the water, strands floating over the surface. "Once a year, I indulge myself in the passion that all gods and goddesses desire."

"Destruction?" Leannia queried.

"To be worshiped," Merphomenee corrected her, opening one verdant eye to gaze upon us. "Truly worshiped. Every day of the week I am given sacrifices and burnt offerings, sung paeans of praise and invoked in prayers. Baubles by the hundreds are dedicated to me, year after year. These are dues rendered to a deity, to be certain, and yet they feel so ... bland, so mundane, so vapid. The truest form of worship - the only form that satisfies - is for mortals to experience how utterly helpless they are before my power. For them to yearn in vain so desperately to live. To realize the futility of attempting to sway me, and yet to earnestly attempt it still. That is the kind of worship - genuine, unadulterated, heartfelt obeisance - which drives me delirious with ecstasy by its very sincerity."

Leannia nodded slowly in comprehension; I understood too, and felt nauseated by Merphomenee's twisted desires. The monstrous tribute she exacted every year and the awful consequences for the province which failed to satisfy her - nothing more than a frivolous excuse to entertain her empty soul by terrorizing her powerless subjects. She savored the anticipation and relished denying herself this intoxicating draught by strictly limiting her consumption of it, but in the end she was simply a divine addict craving a thrill. Bitterly I said as much to her awesome visage. "So Phinos - and Louelle - are nothing more than trinkets to break for your amusement? You are no goddess. You are less than even a girl! You are a slave, a slave to your basest appetites!"

Leannia gasped in horror at me, gripping my arm urgently. "Summerlyn!" she hissed. I confess that I felt great fear in my own heart at addressing the goddess with such obloquy, but my fury scattered caution to the winds.

If Merphomenee seemed upset, her face betrayed no sign. "What of it?" she asked me. "Are we not all slaves, mortals and goddess alike? To be born is to be a slave - if not of other men, then of one's desires, one's ambitions, one's lusts. We deceive ourselves when we say that we are at liberty, for the only freedom given to us is a choice of whom we serve. You judge me, little one, because I refuse to cloak myself in hypocrisy concerning this reality."

"That is not true!" I shouted back at her. "I judge you because you are needlessly cruel and make men suffer to slake a thirst you yourself could easily rise above! You could control your desires, but you let them control you!" I ignored Leannia's frantic tugging and she subsided after Merphomenee motioned to her to stop. "Merphomenee, again I pose to you the same question I have asked every time we speak face to face: Why? Why will you not rein yourself in, so awesomely powerful as you are? If I possessed but a sliver of your might, I could do so much for my beloved Theraveria! I know you are capable of great kindness, kind as you were to a princess of Theraveria whom you taught to think for herself! I know you can inspire the hearts of mortals - I see it myself, every day in Illyrica - inspire them to achieve wonders and create marvels they could never accomplish themselves! Why then do you suffer yourself - yes, suffer! - to be enthralled by your own self-destructive desires?" Tears sprang unbidden into my eyes. "I glimpsed your heart, Merphomenee! I felt your deep hatred for how I spoiled your plans for Louelle, but even deeper than that I saw your desperate loneliness and desire for companionship! We were intimate friends once, and I treated you as the older sister I never had! If you could only hide your wanton desires, you could share that intimacy with as many men and women as you wished! Tragic daughter of Moneta, this is your tragedy!"

For the first and only time since I met her, I saw tears to match mine form in the goddess' great emerald eyes. "Oh, Summerlyn ..." she whispered huskily, her body heaving emotionally beneath the surface of the water. "Oh Summerlyn, no mortal has ever pierced me as you do now. If only ... if only I could give up all I have, all I am, for you. My little darling, you wound me in a way that I shall never heal." Glistening tears trickled from the corners of her eyes and ran down her cheeks to dissolve into her bath. "It is true that I am of two hearts. I long to meet a mind that can understand my lofty thoughts and to surrender myself to its company, with whom I can be completely candid. Goddess I may be, still I account myself fortunate to have met you, a new and fascinating mind from a new world that exceeds all my imagination. You I have loved as I love few mortals, and yet I cannot help but hate you too. You would sunder me completely, dividing goddess from woman, and that I will not do even for you, my dearest Summerlyn!" She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her voice breaking in sorrow. "In every tragic drama a hero is brought low by a single, fatal flaw that overcomes him! You ask me to change for you, Summerlyn! You say you perceive my heart - now Merphomenee perceives yours! Will you change for me? Will you accept me as I am, and allow me to cherish you as I once did?"

I wanted to acquiesce. I wanted so desperately to agree, to leap off my seashell and swim to her and throw myself into her warm hand and forever surrender myself to her. I thought my heart would burst. But how could I? How could I accept Merphomenee's desires, her perspective that saw mortals only as means to an end? With piercing clarity I understood that even though she loved me ardently, I would never be her equal in her eyes. Servant, pet, companion, amusement - but not her peer. She would not lower herself that far, nor could I elevate myself to her level. Girl and goddess, an inseparable gulf lay between us that only she could cross - if the effort did not destroy her completely. "If only I could, Merphomenee," I murmured sadly. "I too am flawed beyond salvation. I am merely a woman, as much at your mercy as any of the mortals you so indifferently trod upon today, a helpless mite to suffer your pleasure. I cannot transcend my mortality and be your equal, nor will I abandon my fellow man to your whims. Look into my heart and understand why."

The goddess shuddered and sobbed, ripples from her heaving body rocking the seashell coracle as she and I grieved for a friendship lost. This confrontation of ours, so similar to a domestic quarrel, had bared both our hearts. Then Leannia pushed herself past me and called to her, "If she will not be your companion, I will!"

"You?" Merphomenee and I both asked, myself in surprise, the goddess with indignation. Leannia shrank back from Merphomenee's scornful tone, and her eyes flew wide with fear as Merphomenee drew herself up looming ominously over our seashell, water flowing from her skin and scarlet tresses. I immediately realized I was seeing the part of the goddess which viewed mortals only as tools and amusements again. "Leannia," she spoke coldly, "you were offered to me as a slave to spare your homeland from the destruction you witnessed me visit upon Phinos. Give me no cause to repent my decision, for I am distraught and may forget my duty as mistress." Leannia whimpered in fright, her arms trembling as she clung to me.

"Goddess, please, forgive her impertinence!" I cried up to Merphomenee's threatening countenance, quite frightened myself. "She only wishes to comfort you!"

Merphomenee settled back down into the bath so abruptly that the ripples nearly capsized our raft, prompting her to extend a hand to lift us out of the water. "... It is futile for me to even try, Summerlyn," she reflected sadly. "How easily I frighten my little darling. How difficult it is to humble my nature." Reaching to the rim of the bath, she gently set us down on the tiles. Leannia immediately scurried away, terrified, as I paused uncertainly. The goddess would not look at me, so I reluctantly took my leave after a few minutes of watching her colossal back trembling with emotion. Her quiet weeping followed me out all the way to my bed as I obediently climbed into her shoe. Sleep eluded me; how could I rest, after all I had witnessed today? An interminable time must have passed as I curled up inside her slipper. At one point I heard Merphomenee slip in very quietly to the chamber and I pretended to be asleep when she anxiously peered down into my bed. "Summerlyn ..." she whispered with the wistful longing of a woman trying to reconcile with a lover. I did not respond.

At last I understood why she was the goddess of tragedy.

ACT III: La princesse revient

I awoke without having remembered how I fell asleep, still in my slipper bed. I peeked out cautiously over the rim of the lining, unwilling to face Merphomenee again. In spite of our angry argument yesterday, now that I had the benefit of a night's reflection I still wanted so much to throw myself into her hands and beg her to be my friend again. I did not catch sight of her immense stature; instead, Platina greeted me as I climbed out of the goddess' slipper for the morning repast. Having eaten nothing yesterday while my consciousness had been trapped in Merphomenee's body, I felt ravenous with hunger. "Hail, Mademoiselle Katalina," she greeted me. Evidently I had kept her waiting.

"Good morning, Plati - wait." My breath caught in my throat, recognizing the regal air about the short girl and the familiar way she held her head high. And of course Platina spoke not a word of Brabantine. "... Merphomenee?"

"How perceptive you are. I have bid my slaves prepare a meal for you," she told me.

I gathered up my skirts and hopped down from the slipper bed with as much dignity as I could retain, biting my lip nervously. "Goddess, I ..." With great effort I forced the words out. "... I apologize for my behavior yesterday."

She ignored my conciliatory overture. "I am arranging for your return to Theraveria," she declared, causing my heart to leap into my throat. Had Merphomenee changed her mind? Finally I would be permitted to return home! Impulsively I embraced Platina, but even then she still did not respond as her arms remained motionless at her side. "You will return as you came to us - I shall not have it said that I mistreated you in any way."

"... Mistreated me?" I asked, quite confused and unable to see any explanation looking down into Platina's unemotional eyes.

Platina stepped back out of my arms. I shot her a hurt look as she did so, but I suppose I have no cause for complaint, having rejected Merphomenee's compromise yesterday night. Now she used her human puppet to speak with me instead of her own voice. "When your hair has grown again to its former length you may leave us."

"... But that will require years!" I protested.

The vessel of the goddess nodded impassively. "Which is why I am releasing you from my hearth, Mademoiselle Katalina. From this day forth you are free to travel wheresoever you please in my world. My slipper shall be your bed no more. All of your expenses will be paid from the state coffers, however extravagant they might be. I will watch you closely and send one of my vessels to summon you when the time is right."

She turned to leave, stopping when I reached out and caught her shoulder. "Merphomenee! Stop treating me as a stranger! Did I not just abase myself before you?"

Platina did not even look at me. "You would not listen when I did likewise. Now I feel nothing for you," she said flatly. I sank to my knees as though she had struck me and tears welled up in my eyes. She stepped away from me without another word.

I never did say farewell to my friend Platina, nor did I see her again while I dwelt in Illyrica. That very day I departed the grand temple in Kircina and rented a room in a local shrine within the city. Before I left, she gave me a signet ring to wear, made of costly orichalcum and an intricately worked aetherial crystal which could only be shaped by magical artificing. This gift was known as the Goddess' Grace and entitled its bearer to privileges shown to those favored of the goddess, a trinket I could display to anyone if I required service. In a fit of pique at Merphomenee's cold aloofness I threw the ring away into a sewer that ran beneath the streets of Kircina, only for another of her vessels to silently return the Grace to me less than an hour later. Sullenly I accepted it back; I found that I only needed to show the ring to anyone and I would immediately receive the most sumptuous foods, the best apparel, the costliest gifts at no expense.

I lingered two months in Kircina, always watched by at least one of the goddess' human masks. If I needed anything that even her Grace could not procure for me, I only had to ask her. But our conversations always remained terse and businesslike. None of Merphomenee's vessels ever displayed any emotion to me after that fateful day in Phinos, not even when I slapped them in exasperation or broke down sobbing at their feet. Sometimes I screamed for her to leave me be; other times I desperately sought her shoulders to weep upon. Merphomenee showed me every courtesy and not a shred of warmth.

So I turned to other diversions in an effort to fill the goddess-shaped hole she had left in my heart, unable to entirely rid myself of her. I debated with the most eminent philosophers in Kircina, I attended the most popular theatrical productions, I dined on sumptuous feasts, I explored the entire city to drink in its glorious daytime accomplishments and its lively nighttime culture. Little of it satisfied me, for I always fell asleep to the placid expressions of her vessels. My dreams were often haunted by intimations of a future that could have been possible if only one of us had been less obstinate. I made many friends with my charm and intellect, but even the most agreeable male companionship and the most endearing affections with other women could not substitute for Merphomenee's company. When she returned to her grand temple I made up my mind to throw myself at her feet and beg her to simply smile at me, only to find the great doors barred to me.

Without recourse, I traveled away from Kircina with the trade caravans that plied their wares between the provinces. When one reckons the time I spent in convalescence under the goddess' care, I lingered nigh on three years in Illyrica and her sister provinces while my golden tresses slowly grew back. Merphomenee's vessels gently cared for my body and hair no matter how far away I traveled from civilization. As I had before, I saw many, many wondrous marvels in Illyrica, so much so that I could exhaust all my parchment to record what my eyes beheld. Yet few of them held any splendor for me. Once I came to a great city which had been the site of one of Merphomenee's devastating rampages, and although five years had since passed I still saw the shadow of the goddess lying heavily on the metropolis in the shape of ruined edifices and fearful expressions on the faces of the citizens. I even met Leannia Aenilia again when my sojourns brought me through Tartulia, though as always it was Merphomenee's mind which peered out through her eyes at mine. Common gossip held that from a meek slave offered to the goddess, Leannia had become a woman as arrogant and needlessly cruel as Merphomenee, secure in her role as the puppet of the divine.

But despite her omnipresent marionettes lingering like an oppressive shadow over every movement of mine, I saw nothing of Merphomenee herself during those weary years.

Two more annual tributes with their senseless city rampages occurred during my long captivity in Illyrica, events I felt relieved not to witness. I only heard when rumor and news reached my ears weeks later as chilling stories retold and repeated by dismayed citizens. My probing questions as to why the populace played along with Merphomenee's charade were met by blank stares and baffled expressions: she was a goddess and obviously above question or reproach! They tried to appease her with monuments and sacrifices; I watched their futile gestures with resigned sadness, seeing how she loomed large in their lives and knowing how pointless their efforts were. What good could human effort do in the face of such overweening power as hers?

At last the day came when Merphomenee's current vessel informed me that she was ready to open the way to Louelle. She brought me back to the small white sanctuary by the seashore where I had first arrived to rest and recover. There I found that Junia, Claudia, and Maecia had all married and departed, but Camilla still remained tending the temple with a few new faces. I slept in my former bed for my last night in Illyrica after fond conversation with Camilla about my visit years ago. That night Merphomenee must have come and visited in person, for I found a bath of her warm breast milk awaiting me in the morning, but even then she still refused to show herself to me. Oh Merphomenee, my goddess, my langoth, what mortal could fill my heart as you? Camilla bathed me and the goddess' vessel brushed my sunlit hair, now quite full again. They dressed me afterwards in a fine silken stola with purple hems. When I tried to return the Goddess' Grace to the vessel, she told me to keep it as a memento of my time in this world.

Dear reader of mine, it is true that much though my heart longed for my pristine Theraveria, I departed Illyrica with considerable reluctance. Je savais que je ne reverrais jamais sa beauté. The people simply had the misfortune of being ruled by a selfish, destructive goddess. Camilla alone came to say farewell and to watch me depart; when I stood in the circle of conjury prepared by the goddess' slaves, I felt Merphomenee's magic swaddle me. Momentarily the same warm embrace that I had experienced during the chaotic night of her attempted entry surrounded me again, causing a pang of regret in my heart for what might have been. Then I receded away, away, further away as Illyrica fell behind me at great speed.

I do not know how much time passed as Merphomenee carried me between Illyrica and Theraveria, only that I seemed to move with incomprehensible velocity. Her great feat of magical artificing with the Goddess' Gate had been meant to join two worlds to a single location; this was entirely different magic, propelling me on a journey between worlds. I saw a verdant orb of shining turquoise shimmering before me as it grew with alarming rapidity. Then I plunged through the clouds like a falling star, the ground rising up to meet me so swiftly that I screamed in fright. For a heartstopping moment I feared I would be crushed into the earth, but Merphomenee's embrace slowed abruptly as I soared over Louelle. She guided me to the ruins of the Goddess' Gate, no doubt having used the latent power buried within as a beacon, and dropped me on the lip of the bowl. For a moment I sensed her hesitation; I too did not wish to leave her, but I felt too proud to say as much. Et puis elle a disparu.

The darkness of the Theraverian night folded around me without the goddess' comforting presence. I inhaled deeply, savoring the first breath of homely air I had drawn in the last three years. Even the worn cobblestone roads under my feet felt welcoming. The lights of Louelle glimmered and beckoned me in. Since I could not examine the ruins of the gate in the darkness, I turned and walked alone into the city with no entourage in my train. What had changed in my absence? The footmen with their lamplit coaches still conveyed personages of import to their nightly revelries, paying little heed to the few pedestrians awake after dark. I drank in the sights of my dear, beloved Louelle as I traveled unhurriedly through her streets, remembering anew the shapes of the buildings and the silhouettes of the edifices. I found that I could still discern which residences were hosting night parties by the lights and the carriages clustered outside. Though the Theraverians find it scandalous for a lone woman to travel unchaperoned, especially if she is unmarried, I no longer cared. I walked straight up to the palace gates and summoned the watch officer on duty. He politely offered to send an escort to convey me back to my residence in the city, then gaped dumbstruck when he recognized me. I was at once ushered inside as the footmen raced to inform my mother. At last the princess had returned home.

Roused from bed, Queen Heloise appeared in the palace lobby still wearing her negligee and threw herself around me, sobbing openly and embracing me so tightly I thought she would never let go. Lanterns appeared and servants and guardsmen crowded to see, murmurs of astonishment rippling through the gathering horde of surprised men and women. Mother's tears ran freely down her cheeks to seep into my shoulder robes, and I too wept when I saw her. My maidservants and my nurses, and the old palace seneschals ... so few dry eyes, and such weeping as I had not heard since the benighted day Merphomenee trod on Phinos. How I had missed my family! "Praise be, you live! You live!" mother murmured breathlessly in wonder, taking my face in her hands and drinking in every detail of me from my strange foreign garb to my divinely-touched face. The palace interior still remained as I had remembered it, save for a somber lack of flowers and the absence of a few familiar individuals. There were also several new names I did not recognize. "Oh Summerlyn my child, you have returned from death to us! Oh, you must be ever so hungry! Why do you all stand there gaping like lackwits? My daughter is alive, quickly bring her the best food and her clothes to wear lest we lose her again! Dispose of all of my black apparel! You live!" she repeated, dazed. Poor mother, she had so many more gray hairs than I remembered.

"Oh mother, I missed you so much, and father and Charlemont too!" I wept unabashedly. "Where is father? Where is my brother? How long has it been?"

"His Majesty and your brother are in the field with the army," mother informed me gravely. "We are at war, Summer dear. Oh, of course there is so much I must tell you!"

"Exactly one thousand twenty-nine days since that horrible tragedy stole you from Louelle," a new voice informed me and I glanced behind myself to see dark-haired Renia Sundalicia gazing teary-eyed at me. Impulsively I embraced her too, as one victim of Merphomenee to another, and I saw with amazement that she still wore the lock of my golden hair braided into one of her own sable tresses above her forehead. The young ladies looked at me in awe, the older matrons took my hand and kissed my cheek. Some thoughtful souls brought honey-glazed ham from the kitchen for me and I laid down on my side before abruptly remembering Theraverian manners. I ate strongly with the utensils brought to me, not having realized how famished I felt until I smelled the mouth-watering aroma. Renia laughed as she watched, a genuinely happy chuckle as she said, "So that is where Your Highness has been!"

Once I had satisfied my hunger and the excitement calmed somewhat, I wanted to hear what had transpired in my absence. My time spent in Illyrica is of course far too long a story to more than summarize for my mother; likewise, I was told the broad details of events in Theraveria. For a week the conjurers had braved the aetherially-charged waters of the gate in a vain attempt to rescue me, discover where I had gone, or even find my body. During this time the king convened his council and repudiated the former peace treaty, declaring war upon Brabant as retaliation for my attempted kidnapping, an event I had nearly forgotten already. I had been given a grand funeral of state, a fact which made me smile. Left stranded in Theraveria, but with considerable wealth to her name from her ambassadorial account, Renia had quickly received dozens of courtship suits and married an eligible young noble, making her the Marquise de Vautonlieu. She had already borne a daughter to her husband, a fact which surprised me greatly for she seemed unchanged from three years past save that she had adopted Theraverian fashions fully. Renia had also briefed the king and his ministers on Merphomenee's intentions for Louelle. I told the story of how the goddess had destroyed the city of Phinos at which mother and the ladies of the court made a great show of distressed sighing. I explained also how we had argued and grown distant, and how she sent me back to Louelle. "I do not think we will hear any more of her," I concluded.

Renia nodded. "She has not attempted to inhabit me even once since that fateful day." When she saw the Goddess' Grace hanging from my neck, she asked me to give it to her. I took off my necklace and surrendered it without a second thought.

Mother embraced me again. "Oh Summerlyn, you've suffered so much! It is almost more than your old mother's poor heart can bear."

I leaned my head into her shoulder. "I am home and unchanged now, save that I shall never touch magic again. I would like to see papa and my brother when I am able. Perhaps I may go visit them in the camp?"

Queen Heloise shook her head firmly. "Nonsense, my dear. You must rest and recover after your harrowing ordeal and settle back into home first! We kept your room preserved just as it was. Oh, I hope your raiments still fit you without seamstresses having to adjust them! Oh oh, His Majesty will be so overjoyed to hear of your return, you simply must write him a letter immediately."

I did pen the letter, a lengthy screed explaining my absence and expressing my fond hopes to see him soon, as well as another letter to my brother. Chirugeons of the royal household examined me the next morning and pronounced me in perfect health. Returning to the highly regimented life of a princess stifled me in some ways after the carefree, aimless years of Illyrica, but I enjoyed the company of Theraverian haute société for which I had been bred and trained. Far less enjoyable were the wearisome suits from would-be suitors; I insisted to mother that I would not marry a man unless he were within ten years of my age, of comparable social status, every bit as well-read and educated, polished and sophisticated, and ambitious as well. This had the unpleasant effect of causing my mother to fret incessantly at my growing old without marrying as well as the far more desirable effect of winnowing the field of my paramours. For conversation I often turned to Renia, the only other individual who had walked where I sojourned. We talked much of Illyrica and she once confessed to me that she still missed her home very much. I discovered that she hailed from Caesaria; she was a former princess of that province, taken by Merphomenee as a future vessel at the early age of twelve when the goddess had repaid a paltry tribute by showing the soles of her buskins to the city of Latius.

Renia introduced me to the Salon de Rue d'Hiver, that extremely exclusive club of the leading thinkers of the day. Even a princess could not enter its intellectual sphere without a sponsor; I admit I felt a great deal of trepidation when I arrived in a royal coach for my first evening meeting with these fine and accomplished luminaries. The Comtesse de Rouillart herself chaired the discussions, a woman in her mid-forties renowned for her brilliant writings and original thought. Their warmth and geniality soon set me at ease and I spent a most agreeable night deep in conversation with these excellent intellectuals. I did not depart until past midnight, with the Marquise de Vautonlieu assuring me I had made a favorable impression upon all present. For a salon to count a princess of the crown among its inner members brought immense prestige to the coterie of the Comtesse de Rouillart, but I felt it my honor to speak so freely with the foremost minds of the age.

Lieutenant-Colonel Merrimont and the surviving members of the Princess' Own Guard Knights arrived from the Theraverian army camp not long after. He bore answering letters from the king for mother and I as well as royal assent to remain in Louelle on duty as my personal protector, in reality more of an extended leave for him and his men. "Princess Katalina," he greeted me, kneeling to press his lips to the back of my hand. Renia was present to chaperone me. "Your beauty is even more radiant than the memory of three bygone years recalls." I immediately blushed - he was still as beautiful as ever - and began to pester him with questions. By his account the war did not speed well. "Having fought as part of an alliance with several Allemagnian principalities, I now esteem King Laudamais rather less," he told me. "If my own experience is any to rely upon, much of his success must be due to the fact that he consistently faced coalitions of his enemies in battle. If Your Serene Highness and Her Grace will permit me to speak in confidence -"

"Granted, sir," I agreed.

"- there are four sovereigns commanding the strategy of our alliance. Of them, one I should very much wish to observe him peep through a keyhole, for I am certain he could do it with both eyes at the same time. For another of their lot, I envy any man or woman who has not experienced the displeasure of making his acquaintance. Place these four men together and naturally hear five opinions for every problem which arises. Allemagnians are certainly brave enough and together we outnumber the Brabantines, but to what end?" He sighed and shook his head sheepishly. "Pray forgive me, Your Highness. I was not dispatched to burden you with my complaints but rather to provide an escort to a princess."

I frowned at the news. Most Theraverian women knew little of military affairs, but I had gathered that the crown was still bankrupted by the costs associated with the Goddess' Gate. I knew from speaking with the Minister of the Army that the city forges only produced two culverins a month for military use, an appallingly low number in an age where gunpowder decided battles. The engagements which had occurred had been inconclusive and the armies camped opposite each other in defensive earthworks for some time, always a dangerous situation since disease reliably killed more men than combat. The people were asked to forgo luxuries for the soldiers in the army. I decided I could live without my jewels and my elegant dresses, so I asked the servants to sell most of them for me. I considered selling clippings of my tresses, only for mother to bewail my marriage prospects so ardently that I desisted for her sake. I did stop taking my expensive hair treatments. My hair never lost its lustrous golden sheen, no doubt due to the potency of Merphomenee's divine milk.

With such excellent company, I recovered much of my gaiety from the innocent days before Merphomenee sent Renia to Louelle. Mother tried to arrange more suitable matches for me, but I rebelled against the idea of being used as a political pawn in dynastic games. I pointed out to her that Laudamais' marriage to Isadore-Constance made him the son-in-law of Roussilion's King Jezenik without doing favors for either; within three years Brabant and Roussilion once more clashed, a war that ended only when Roussilion teetered on the brink of annihilation. In truth I did not wish to leave my beloved Louelle for a foreign court where I would be friendless and far from home. I had been fostered for a year at the court in Anglica, an exciting time to be certain but one where I felt acutely conscious of my foreign identity. Being at the age of twenty-two, mother warned me I was in danger of becoming an old spinster with little chance to influence men. But none of my suitors appealed to me for one reason or another, nor did seeing Renia dote upon her adorable infant daughter suffice to overcome my scruples.

With so many young men away at the front with the army and ostentatious displays of luxury frowned upon, the once lively evening balls and magnificent theatrical productions of the city suffered greatly. I often walked with my ladies-in-waiting out in the gardens of the royal palace, entertaining them with tales of my time in Illyrica and usually escorted by my ceremonial guards. To a woman they gasped and fanned themselves and exclaimed how very brave I must be to endure such horrific trials; this embarrassed me for I often recall feeling quite frightened during dangerous moments of my sojourn, and I made no secret of this. Sir Merrimont often listened as well, but unlike my maids he did not hesitate to suggest that I might have acted differently if I asked for his candid opinion. We asked him once if there was a woman he fancied, such gossip being as precious as a thirsting man's water to idle women of aristocratic mien, but he replied with perfect propriety that he would not court a woman while the country stood at war.

Quiet news came from the camp where both armies remained entrenched behind earthworks. I saw that Merrimont wished to be back with the Theraverian cavalry, but when I offered to write to the king he said that he would do his duty without complaint, desirable or not. One night, returning from a social call to the Marquise de Vautonlieu near sunset, I asked him to detour my coach to the Goddess' Gate that I might survey it closely. He expressed some surprise that I had not visited it since my return to Louelle, but he obligingly turned his horse and escorted me there.

The site of the well had been left unguarded as only charred rubble of no value remained. The gate had imploded upon itself when Merphomenee's protective magic interfered with her connective magic; fortunately the reinforced stone walls of the chasm had absorbed most of the shock. I saw that the alchemists of the city had stripped away the valuable orichalcum stabilizers from the excavated parts of the bowl and even the silver ink of the tiles had been scraped off. Only cracked marble and stone remained, some of the former having been removed as well. A faint aura of residual magic remained but the well had dried long ago, its waters drained through the shattered foundation. The depths of the well had been filled in with rubbish and a mound of broken rock raised over it. Walking around the crater slowly with only Sir Merrimont present holding a lantern for me, I retraced the steps of that day when everything had changed. "... Here. I believe we dismounted here. I ran up to papa and tried to change his mind," I told Merrimont.

"His Majesty is most blessed to have a daughter with such a perspicacious mind," Merrimont replied.

I flushed at the compliment. "I remember being seized by the spirit of adventure, monsieur, but in truth I was very afraid. When I felt the awesome power of Merphomenee for the first time ... oh Merry, I feared the worst! I never did thank you properly for hazarding so much harm to try and save me."

"I too felt very afraid," Merrimont reflected quietly. He touched a broken block of stone with the toe of his boot.

"You?" I asked, amazed. "I thought you feared nothing! My ladies-in-waiting said that you did not even blink when a bullet grazed your neck during the duel!"

Merrimont pursed his lips as though embarrassed to recall the incident, pressing his free palm to the side of his neck. "Your Highness, I knew that Captain Habernitz would not shoot me although I had given offense. He can fire at a ladybug at fifty paces and not miss. I was never in any danger, but it grieves me to hear that I may have given you cause for concern."

I immediately understood, or thought I did. "... Ah, then that means your second and his must have arranged beforehand ...?" I seated myself on a stone and smoothed down the folds of my dress, fanning myself languidly.

"Not quite." Merrimont looked pained. "Pardon me, Your Highness. I have never confessed my role in this matter to anyone as I now do to you. Adolphus and I understood that Brabantine belligerency threatened both we and Adelweiss, but neither of us wished to fight. Allemagnians are brave, often to a fault, but they are not fools. If Brabant mustered against Theraveria alone, why should the Allemagnians stir to help when it is not in their own immediate interest?" I nodded; this made sense. "Being, if you will pardon the immodesty, rather more far-seeing than other men in this matter, Adolphus and I proposed to shame the Adelweiss delegation into aiding Theraveria if measured reason would not suffice. Therefore we drank spirits together until I could reasonably plead inebriation for my unpardonably impolite conduct. We escalated a quarrel that we had pre-ordained so as to cloak our true intentions and took great risk in doing so. Your Highness knows the rest of the story." He paused for a long, poignant moment. "I fully expected to be gaoled by His Majesty after our duel. If he wishes to do so now, I shall not utter a word of complaint. To think that people still believe Adolphus and I acquitted ourselves honorably on the field ..."

My eyes grew wider and wider during his recital. Brave, chivalrous Merrimont - to think he was capable of such a stratagem! I stared at him in quite an unladylike manner from disbelief, amazed that he would have conceived so subtle an idea and impressed by his depth of understanding. "I ... well, I do not know what to say, monsieur! Perhaps you are more fit to advise the king than any of his ministers!" I debated whether or not I should reveal a secret of my own to him. My warm feelings of affection for him swiftly decided in favor - after all, had he not just taken me into his confidence? "Ah, but you are not the only person with secrets. Very soon after she arrived in Louelle, the Marquise de Vautonlieu began to clandestinely teach me magic."

Merrimont nodded. "You did tell me. Your Highness displayed remarkable adeptness at the ford and right here at the gate. The marquise would have informed your royal parents of it after the incident here." He indicated the ruined gate surrounding us.

I pressed on. "But you did not know that Renia Sundalicia was no mere ambassador, but the goddess Merphomenee herself enshrined in a human marionette, non? She told me that I alone knew this secret and bid me keep it in confidence. It was Merphomenee who schooled me in matters of mind and magic. She even drew forth my spirit to inhabit her, very briefly. Oh, it was quite the experience."

"She could do that?" Merrimont asked, arching an eyebrow in surprise. "The Marquise de Vautonlieu informed us that the goddess' power is greatly diminished here, so far is Europa from her own world."

I frowned and tried to remember that night more than three years ago when she had first taught magic to me. Distinctly I remembered the sense of power and stature which I had felt, but my mind recalled no details about how Renia had reacted. "Weakness must be understood in relative terms ... Perhaps that is why she has not tried to inhabit the marquise again? It does comfort me to know that we lie beyond her reach, if we indeed are. How could we have been so blind to her intentions?"

"Your Highness must not blame herself," Merrimont told me, "she deceived all of us. She promised us health and prosperity and peace, but at what cost? That we should offer our cities to be destroyed on her whim?"

I nodded. The Salon de Rue d'Hiver had debated this question extensively for my sake, asking whether it was an equitable trade. On first reaction the opinion had been universally negative, but the Comtesse de Rouillart bid us divorce our emotions from the question and examine it again under a dispassionate eye. "What do you think, Merry? Is the cost truly unbearable? For all my life we have been at war with Brabant and I have accepted that a princess must place the needs of the kingdom above her own desires. If we could sacrifice me, or even a city to have all the gifts that Merphomenee lavished on her people ..."

"Your Highness does not really believe that," Merrimont replied firmly.

"Why not? What is one life, or even thousands, when weighed against the nation?" I asked, challenging him to explain.

"It is everything, Your Highness," he replied without hesitation. Even in the dark of the night, he looked so handsome and earnest. Merrimont pointed in the direction of the battlefront. "If a man loses his leg to a musket ball, his companions will brave the face of the enemy to save him, even if it cost them twenty of their number to rescue one. They do this because a man is not a mere statistic, an abstraction to be counted as one counts coin in the hand. Your goddess sees us only as victims for her amusement, firewood to be consumed in the flames of a passionate moment, treating humans as slaves and pets and cattle. In their place she could have meaningful, profound relationships - I believe she did come to feel this way towards Your Highness. Within every man lies an entire world, of dreams and hopes and fears, if he will but share it with his fellows and his fellows will but accept it. More than mere flesh and blood, we are ambitions and dreams and desires contained in a life far too short to fully embrace all that we long to become. Weak and fragile as we might be in comparison to the goddess, must we sacrifice ourselves to her merely for a more comfortable existence? In your heart you know this, even if your head is willing to entertain thoughts to the contrary. Your Highness ... Summerlyn ... no man is expendable. 'Seul l’Esprit, s’il souffle sur la glaise, peut créer l’Homme,'" he concluded, quoting a well-known Brabantine novelist.

My admiration of him grew as I listened to him expound his views. What a tragic misfortune that he could not have been born a prince of royal blood! How could I not lose my heart to a man of such deep thoughts, such gentle mien, such courageous and noble soul? Affection I have always held for him, ever since our mutual childhood. Now I realized that all my blushing around him, all my desire to have him for company, my ostentatious respect for his opinion were merely excuses for the deeper feelings I had developed. Shyly I reached my hand and placed it in his, feeling my skin burning where I touched him.

He looked at me intently, then raised my hand to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. My face immediately flushed; I thought I would faint. "Your Highness is very kind to me, but I dare not," he said, as gently as he could. I did not want to hear those words, but he continued, "You know that this is impossible. Pray do not compromise my honor further."

My voice choked. "Oh, oh, but Merry! My suitors are detestable to me! Where shall I find a man like you, who understands me so well, who is so chivalrous as you, if not you?" Tears threatened to overwhelm me.

"Your Highness. Listen to me. Listen well. This time you must let your head rule your heart," he told me with great tenderness. "I am content to be your servant, and would be honored to be your friend, but more than that I cannot be. You said that you would not change for your goddess - do not, therefore, change for a mere man. Theraveria will not permit it."

How could he be so cruel to my heart? Feeling crushed by misery, I wept so bitterly that I missed the presence of the shadow approaching us. Merrimont glanced up sharply and immediately pulled his hand away from mine, touching the hilt of his saber as the footsteps drew nigh. I heard a woman's tongue declare, "Theraveria may not, but the goddess will overrule her." The voice, not the words, startled me out of my reverie and I blinked away tears as the girl stepped into the circle of light cast by the oil lantern to reveal her features to us.

Never would I have imagined to see her face again. "... Platina Titiana?"

ACT III: Chat et souris

There could be no mistaking the pale face, the chestnut hair, the slim figure, or the short stature even in the dark of the Theraverian night; Platina stood before myself and Merrimont at the edge of the Gate's rubble. Looking into her liquid brown eyes I shivered, for I saw Merphomenee's implacable gaze peering back at me from her vessel's orbs. Merrimont immediately interposed himself between me and Platina - bless the man. He did not draw his saber, however, nor did he unholster his long-barreled revolver. "Do you know this woman?" he asked me.

"On your guard!" I hissed in a frightened whisper. "It is Merphomenee!" Platina's head nodded in affirmation.

"Goddess. It has been several years, and you wear the face of another as your mask," Merrimont intoned politely, "but I see the truth of the matter now. You will pardon my effrontery if I ask that you do not frighten my princess so. Why have you returned to a city in which you are no longer welcome?" I peered at his knuckles to see if they gripped the hilt of his saber tightly, but he seemed to be quite at ease.

Platina stepped closer, allowing me to see that she wore a Theraverian dress which came down to her knees and a cobalt blue blouse of wool. She affected heeled slippers as well, though with their height she still barely reached the level of my shoulder. Even the voice was Platina's ... but the presence, the aura around the woman carried the unmistakable signature of the goddess, and I felt the distinct impression that she could look down upon me if she so wished. She addressed me directly. "Princess Katalina. I cannot stop thinking of Your Serene Highness now that you have departed from my lands. Are you satisfied here, in your own home, without me?"

I hesitated, uncertain of how to respond. In truth I still thought often of Merphomenee, for nothing quite filled the emptiness her absence left in my heart. During my time spent in Illyrica she had been a friend, a goddess, and - I blushed at the thought, remembering how I drank and bathed in her milk - even a mother to me. I missed the deep conversations I often had with her, speaking my mind freely in front of the goddess as I could with few others. For all her unfathomable power and frightening presence, she could be very tender and gentle towards me when she wished to be. ... And therein lay the issue: when she wished to be. She could be stern and forbidding and fearsome on a whim, a single look from her frightening me to the point I thought I would faint from terror. Nevermind the way she treated her people as playthings for her own wicked amusement, granting them peace and prosperity and protection from the terrors of her world, but only so long as they submitted themselves to their roles in her grand drama. Should a mother not love her children regardless of how they behaved? How could I give myself to a goddess who kept her own people subservient through fear, even if she wanted a relationship with me based on trust and understanding? "I-I am more satisfied than I was in Illyrica," I squeaked, wishing my voice could be more firm.

"The words declare yea, the voice nay," Merphomenee mused to herself. "Your Highness, will you not reconsider?"

I shook my head. "No! I want nothing to do with you anymore!"

"But I could offer you so much! Do you wish to wed this man? Say the word, and I will make it so! You could return with me to Illyrica, you and Monsieur Lachaveur both, and none will gainsay my word!" she insisted hotly. "Or permit me to dwell here once more in this body. Though my power is much weaker across the vast distance, I could easily settle your war with Brabant for you! Theraveria will never again be gripped by drought, laid low by pestilence, or suffer want! Please, Your Highness, I ... I simply miss my friend so much ..." she pleaded with me, affecting sincerity.

"Whence came this sentiment?" I asked bewildered. "You would not so much as offer me an embrace for years in Illyrica!"

"... Yes, that is true," she replied sadly. "I ... I am sorry, it is true that I am often a prideful goddess and too haughty to humble myself before mortals. But I will bend my knees to you! Your Highness, will you not heed my cri de coeur? You need but whisper your desire to me, and I shall do all that a goddess can to make it come to pass!" She knelt before me, heedless of the hard stones on her knees, and seized my hand earnestly.

I turned her face up towards me. There were no tears, only fervent desire in her eyes. I felt my own heart breaking as I gently stroked Platina's lovely hair. "Oh Merphomenee ..." I murmured, "how is it that you still do not understand? All I long for is my friend whom I cherished like a sister, not an omnipotent goddess. Your power and your willingness to use it frighten me, Merphomenee; how could I ever be at peace with you, unless you renounced your divinity entirely? Go home, goddess, and prove to me by deeds, not words, your sincerity. Cherish your people, speak kindly and softly to them, treat them no less gently than you treated me, cease from your demands and rages - even if they are unworthy of your love, as I often was. I hope you will find someone who replaces me in your heart and forget all about me. That is all I ask of you, Merphomenee. You tell me you will listen if I speak my desire, and I say no. Release your memory of me and trouble us no more."

Her expression fell and hardened as I spoke. With the affronted dignity of a woman who bared her heart only to see it rejected, she very slowly released my hand and stood to her feet. Merphomenee looked downcast as she half-turned away from me. "... And mortals say the gods are implacable in their cruelty. But I have not the right to protest, seeing as I closed my heart to you first. Only when you finally departed did I realize what I had lost." She looked at me again, all supplication vanished from her eyes. "Very well. Find what joy still remains to you in Theraveria, cruelest of princesses, and when you are old and wed to a husband who loves you more for your utility than your mind, may you repent in vain of your obdurate heart, knowing you were offered bliss unending in the arms of Moneta's daughter!" I shrank away from this awful malediction; Merrimont's eyes narrowed. "Where is Renia Sundalicia? She is my slave and I shall take her with me back to Illyrica."

I opened my mouth but Merrimont smoothly interrupted before I could say aught. "Surely Your Divine Grace is not so naive as to imagine we would let her live after she nearly ruined our city?" he asked in debonair fashion.

Merphomenee looked at him sideways and sighed with exasperated longsuffering. "Sir, do you take me for a fool? I know my vessel yet lived for a long time here, until I sent your princess back to you. But after she returned, I suddenly could not reach the woman whose face I wore. Tell me you are not so wicked that you would slay an innocent messenger." She rounded on me again. "If you did order her execution, Summerlyn Katalina, then you have no right to complain about my treatment of my own cities. No right at all! I know she yet lives; bring her to me."

"Madame Renia is a citoyenne now and does not acknowledge your suzerainty over her," Merrimont replied. "Any attempt to abduct her shall be treated as a breach of Theraverian sovereignty."

The vessel of the goddess snorted at the threat. "A mote of a man dares defy me. Ask your precious princess if you doubt what I say. Monsieur, you and your city are naught but insects beneath my shoes, and I need only tread upon you to destroy you utterly. Solely by my sufferance do you yet draw breath. When I come in my own glory, I shall grind Louelle into dust beneath my soles." She slowly unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her heart. "You should fire upon me now, sir, and slay me immediately. No such opportunity will present itself when you find you are merely a speck of dust in my palm."

"You mustn't!" I warned Merrimont.

He still did not draw his revolver, proving that there was no need. How I admired his fortitude and his restraint! "You do not threaten me now, goddess. I will not shed your blood until you do."

"How very noble, sir," she sneered. "The man refrains even though he has doubtlessly heard from his beautiful princess how an entire city lay prostrate and helpless before me."

"If you return to Theraveria and attack our city, I will fight you then," Merrimont promised her. "But I will not be goaded into action that I know to be wrong now merely to avert a future misfortune which may or may not befall me. The die has not been cast yet."

"This is the fool you love?" Merphomenee asked me. "How very well suited you are for each other. You will both repent of your decisions soon enough." She buttoned up her blouse again and turned to leave, her heels clicking sharply on the stones. "I shall find Renia myself. Warn Louelle to prepare for my arrival." And with that she vanished without a trace. Merrimont lifted the lantern but saw no sign of her, Platina having dematerialized as a phantasm.

"Should I have fired, Your Highness?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "No Merry, you chose the right course of action. Platina is a friend of mine; you would only have harmed her, not the goddess wearing her body like a glove to hand. She would merely send another vessel if you had. But - but oh! We must warn the Marquise de Vautonlieu!"

At Merrimont's insistence I retired to the royal palace to rest. He assured me he would ride at once for the estate of the Marquis de Vautonlieu, which lay outside the city proper. I resolved to summon M. the Prefect of the city guardsmen tomorrow, but as it turned out there was no need; Merrimont had informed him of the matter that very night. Consulting with mother and the seneschals of the castle, we rapidly agreed it would be best for the marquise to be secretly moved to the palace and a permanent guard stationed around her at all times. Renia and her daughter moved into a spare guest chamber near my bedroom, with twenty-four men at arms and twenty-four conjurers to protect her in three shifts. On my insistence we also posted guards by the ruins of the Goddess' Gate, the only practical means of ingress for Merphomenee, to prevent her from using it in some injurious fashion. Lastly I considered whether we might evacuate the citizens from Louelle, but that very day we received grave news from the battlefront that a bloody clash had occurred and with it a decisive defeat for the coalition. The Brabantines were coming again, just as they had in the past. Bells tolled in the city and the municipal arsenal fired cannons to herald the news; that night every house seemed subdued as the heavy pall of gloom settled over Louelle.

My hopes that Merphomenee might leave me be were soon dashed. I awoke in bed to find her stroking my golden hair; I immediately shied away from her and she sullenly vanished. Worse was yet to come. I began to see Platina staring at me when I gazed at myself in looking glasses, but of course she was not present when I whirled around attempting to catch her. I would find letters from her under my pillows addressed to me; most of these I simply burned, but I did read a few, some of which speculated how different my life might be had I accepted her, a few telling me of events in Illyrica. In spite of the guards attending me she stepped in and out of my boudoir and bath at will, and even when she was not present I still felt her eyes constantly on the back of my neck. I rapidly deteriorated under such treatment at her hands, my eyes turning heavy from lack of sleep and my mind paranoid. Mother too suffered with worry for me, fretfully wringing her hands every morning and asking if the terrible goddess had accosted me again? My coterie - bless these kind women! - arranged for two chaperones to accompany me at all times.

Merrimont organized search parties to scour the city looking for Platina, but Louelle is a large city with many people. Seeing how Renia chafed over her enforced immurement, I visited her often and we went on long walks in the secluded palace gardens where we talked intimately of Illyrica. Renia could still work magic and she showed me the Goddess' Grace, explaining its significance to me. "Powerful magic lies latent within this ring," she told me. "I understood at once why she would have wanted you to keep it. It would require immense magic to re-open the gate from this side, but buried deep within the Grace lies a potent force which could accomplish it. It will not respond, however, to aught other but Merphomenee's power alone. I worked upon it the same enchantment that lies upon me, to keep it hidden from her senses." She confided that she kept it with her always, even when she bathed or slept. Renia too seemed to fear Merphomenee, but she assured me that a single vessel of the goddess could not channel enough power unaided to open the gate from the Theraverian side. I asked if it would be better to dispose of the ring, but Renia said she had consulted with the artificers and concluded that no human effort could unmake it; her enchantment would also dissipate with time, so she could not leave it unattended.

That night when I pulled my bedcovers over myself to sleep, my foot touched something small and squirming under my blankets. I screamed so loudly that the guards immediately rushed in from their posts with their carbines at the ready. When they pulled back my bedcovers I expected to find a rat or a marmot nesting; instead, I found one of my ladies-in-waiting, a baroness who had been shrunken to the size of a mouse by Merphomenee's magic. Through her terrified babbling, I managed to decipher that she had encountered Platina and was shrunken to her current size, then left for me to find. My guards and I were both horrified by the revelation that Platina had somehow managed to infiltrate my bedchamber with no one else the wiser. The baroness told me that Merphomenee threatened to treat more of my coterie in similar fashion unless Renia was surrendered to her.

After this visitation I lived in constant dread which even the presence of my parents and the Princess' Own Guard Knights could not assuage. I asked M. the Minister of the Conjury if the poor baroness could be restored, but he told me that was impossible for mere mortals. I demanded to know what the Theraverians had done with the Brabantine prisoners also shrunken by Merphomenee years ago and was told that they had been promptly repatriated to their own nation. I knew that the goddess could reverse the transformation; if only I could persuade her for my friend's sake! The unfortunate baroness, no larger in size than a doll now, had to be sent back to her family where she briefly became an object of wonder to the entire city. Word of this event of course could not be contained and the news spread through the city to be vigilant for any sign of Platina Titiana. A week later one of my guards gravely informed me that the baroness had been found that morning on the floor of her family manor, her body crushed into a bloody smear in a manner which could not be mistaken for any other than a woman's dress shoe stepping upon her.

When Renia heard of this, she insisted on being allowed to surrender to Merphomenee at once. I dissuaded her from taking such a course of action, saying that the city watch had redoubled their efforts to locate the vessel, nor could I bear to see her suffer for my sake. From time to time a citizen or a soldier would catch sight of Platina, but she always vanished before help could arrive. A pair of guardsmen once cornered her, one of them leaving to summon reinforcements. When they reached the scene a mere minute later, the girl had vanished without a trace and the only sign left of the guard was a playing card with his body trapped inside, his face frozen in an expression of terror. After this event the city prefects decided that Merphomenee was not to be confronted without at least a dozen magicians of the Royal College of Conjury present.

Most of the army returned to Louelle at the height of the spring season to begin the process of preparing the city for investiture. King Marchand and the crown prince rode in at the head of the procession to the city, to the welcome relief of the populace. When they finally arrived at the palace that evening, while the army garrisoned the city awaiting the Brabantines, I dressed in my finest gown and threw myself into their arms. The king looked much older and grayer, bowed by the responsibilities of his throne, while I saw that Charlemont Hafarlin had grown half a hand taller than I. Accustomed to thinking of my brother as still a boy when I had been dragged away from Theraveria, I saw clearly now that he had grown into a man of nineteen years, matured and seasoned by his time on the campaign trail. The change upon me must have been evident to the my father and brother, who could scarce contain their surprise. We spoke long into the hours of the morning that night, just me and mother with father and my brother. Of course I felt overjoyed to see them again, but the feeling of Merphomenee's ominous presence cast a shadow over our reunion.

The Brabantine army soon arrived, lacking the force to storm the city or fully encircle it, but nevertheless prepared to besiege our capital by controlling the key roads and the river. Louelle's accustomed gaiety vanished, replaced by the somber work of enduring privation as my father tried to find allies willing to succor our beleaguered nation. The Allemagnians, bloodied by our shared defeat, could offer no aid. There were no more balls and plays to attend, few meetings of the Salon de Rue d'Hiver, and I spent much time sewing bandages and blankets with my circle of women. The sound of distant cannonfire became so common that I no longer flinched at reports.

A month later, Merphomenee shrank another of my ladies-in-waiting, a daughter of seamstress and quite clever with textiles herself. Deeply angered, I demanded that she show herself but received no answer. We still had no idea where Platina slept or ate or bathed every day; I felt acutely helpless, and I dreamed often that I lay curled in Merphomenee's palm as she controlled my life. To protect my unfortunate lady-in-waiting, I kept her with me at all times, even when I bathed, and I experienced some of the affection Merphomenee must have felt for me as I cared for her. One night however, as I read a play written by Antoine Niveau to my knitting society, we all fell asleep - myself, my ladies-in-waiting, even the Princess' Own Guard Knights protecting us. When I started awake, I saw Platina in the midst of swallowing my shrunken friend as she screamed and wailed in terror. My alarmed shriek woke everyone, but it was too late; the unfortunate tailor girl vanished down Platina's throat with a final cry of despair. The goddess stepped behind a screen and vanished as though she had never been present. Feeling responsible, I assumed the doleful task of informing her parents in person.

My social circle shrank greatly in the aftermath. I do not blame these fine young women, from duchesses to commoners, seeing how mere association with me posed great danger. The Brabantine menace loomed over the entire city, but it never felt as personal - as real - as the very intimate way Merphomenee tormented me. In her letters she accused me of ingratitude for the love and attention she had lavished upon me, and she also wrote long passages expressing her desire to be my friend and protect me again. Pouvez-vous imaginer ma culpabilité, knowing that I could have reconciled with her at any moment if I simply yielded my spirit? We two, lover and beloved, princess and goddess, refused to change.

Perhaps I startled Merphomenee by how much I deteriorated under her incessant attention, losing my graceful figure and allowing my hair to become tattered, for I found a rather apologetic letter awaiting me one night where she vowed she would torment me no longer. I burned the letter like all the others, but I did sleep unperturbed that night and for many nights after. My complexion quickly bloomed again. How many others of her victims had she treated in similar manner?

Renia soon after informed me that she had sensed a worrying accumulation of aetherial energy by the ruined Goddess' Gate, quickly confirmed by the Minister of Conjury. This immediately awoke all my latent fears that Merphomenee intended to arrive in person. The summer solstice came; I had returned to Louelle more than half a year ago. I looked to Merrimont for solutions to my dilemma even as my father consulted with his ministers and the servants of state. Mother mourned that I might never marry if I developed a reputation for being a haunted princess and my brother remarked that he would like to meet this goddess in person, preferably with a carbine in hand. Then one morning Renia came to my room, deathly pale, and bid me dress and accompany her to the Goddess' Gate. I questioned her all the way; she told me that she had arranged for the Gate to be sealed completely, but she gripped the Goddess' Grace tightly. I wondered what she hid from me.

I remember distinctly how we dressed that day. The Marquise de Vautonlieu wore a fine cocktail dress of gray which blended Theraverian style with Illyrican elegance. It flattered her figure and matched well with her hair, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. The hems of her gown came nearly to her ankles. She wore black slippers with a band of encrusted pearls over her toes and small silver earrings of crescent moon shape dangled from her ears. The Goddess' Grace gleamed brightly on her finger. Being a married woman, her coiffeur had tied her dark hair up with ribbons and a few jewels. For my part I had chosen a dark gown to match her color, midnight blue in shade. My dress had wide hems fringed with satin and lace and a bright red ribbon bowtied around my slender waist. I wore long-sleeved dark red velvet gloves which covered my elbows; my feet were shod with fancy deep blue slippers embroidered with white flowers, and I wore white silk stockings underneath my petticoats. My dark clothes contrasted sharply with my gleaming bright hair which fell in curled tresses down my blouse, suitable for an unwed princess. She and I both wore minimal cosmetics, a stark contrast to the heavy paint which women in Louelle often affected.

With Louelle under siege, the ruined gate lay outside of the city with neither Brabantines nor Theraverians fully in control of the rubble. Renia said Merrimont had arranged for safe passage with authorities of both armies, who had agreed to observe courtesies of war in regards to women. Our coach bearing the royal emblem and a flag with noncombatant chevrons passed by a picket of grim-faced Theraverian infantry manning several cannons at the edge of the city. I halted to speak a few words of encouragement to these brave men, commending their courage and fortitude in the face of our enemy. Had I known what would transpire, I would have spent more time with them.

When our coach stopped by the gate, Renia told me to go wait by the rubble of the well while she worked magic with a few conjurers. Feeling mystified, I alighted from the coach with fan in hand and slowly wended my way through the grounds. Much of the rubble had been cleared away after the army returned from the frontlines, but the deep chasm remained filled with stone and earth. Standing there escorted by a quartet of my guards, I reflected on how much of my worldview had changed since the goddess entered my life. Once I had envied her for her freedom of thought and action, then admired her for her efforts to educate my mind and teach me magic. I may even have loved her at one time and I certainly worshiped her when I learned of her divinity. But then came the bitter realization of her nature; the disappointment I felt when I uncovered her plans for Louelle, followed by the horror of her power unleashed against hapless Phinos and the hatred she evoked in me by her callous treatment of mortals. These two emotions warred in me, my desire to stand in awe of a goddess in conflict with my revulsion of her treatment of myself and my people. I remained so deep in reverie that I failed to notice Platina's approach until my guards had drawn their revolvers.

Sharp gunshots rang out but the bullets abruptly halted before they struck her, falling to the ground spent and motionless. She glowered at my escorts. They shrank from her glance, or so it seemed, until I realized with dismay that she indeed reduced all of them to mere whiskers in height. Hurriedly I scooped up all four men into my protective hands, the quartet now no larger than toy marbles. With the threat now removed, she laconically strolled up to me with languid grace. "How dare you!" I exclaimed. "Merphomenee, restore them at once!"

"Look at them, Your Highness," she bid me. I glanced down at the expressions of the men, wide-eyed with fear and shrinking away from the goddess even as they tried and failed to maintain a brave facade. "How helpless they are, when a moment ago these brutes could have easily overpowered you or I. All you need do is clench your hand and they would cease to exist. Imagine yourself living in a world inhabited by these fragile creatures, always begging you for succor and favors, running to you for protection from danger, unable to comprehend your thoughts and desires, so fearful that you need inhabit a body like theirs merely to speak with them. Would you not agree with me?"

"I will never be like you, Merphomenee," I retorted. "If I had your power, goddess, I would lavish all your blessings upon my people and ask nothing in return."

Platina tilted her head. "... Would you now? I am sorely tempted to test this proposal, Your Highness. To lend you all of my might and see whether you will indeed do as you claim, or whether your people will come to fear you more than mine fear me."

"Shall we make a test then?" I challenged her. Surely she would not be so foolish as to agree!

Merphomenee merely laughed and mockingly threw my words back in my face. "What did you say to me months ago in this very place? 'Your power and your willingness to use it frighten me'? Oh Summerlyn, you are still a child to me with a child's obstinacy." Angered, I nearly clenched my hands before I abruptly remembered the men cowering in my palm. "No, I have scant affection left for you. But you will surrender Renia Sundalicia to me, or else more and more of your people will become like your handheld attendants there."

I unfolded my fan in front of my guards in protective fashion. "You are remarkably petty for someone who calls herself a goddess. Now restore them!"

Merphomenee let her vessel's eyes wander skyward as she pretend to think aloud, pacing back and forth before me with her heels clicking sharply on the stones. "Who would make an adorable little pet for you to dote over, I wonder? Perhaps Your Highness could bed them in your slippers? The gentleman soldier you fancy?" I gasped as she mentioned Merrimont. "I could reduce him to the size of your finger, make him a doll for you to dress and fuss over. I might even give him a stallion or two suitable for his newfound reduction in stature so that he can pretend to be a soldier still - men are so very peculiar about their honor, would Your Highness not agree? Of course, you would need to protect him rather than he defend you - it would be so terribly simple for a horse to inhale him in a moment of inquisitiveness, or a cat to whet her claws upon him, or even for Your Highness to accidentally step upon him!" At my horrified expression, Merphomenee smiled cruelly and leaned in. "You would need to care for him for the remainder of his life! So utterly helpless ... just like all these mortals who weary me with their incessant plea - wait, what have you done to the gate!" Merphomenee cried in surprise. "Who dares -?"

I turned to look, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. A moment later a gunshot rang out and I screamed in fright from the sharpness of the sudden report, nearly dropping my poor guards. Platina crumpled as the ball struck her in the back, blood spreading through her bodice where the bullet passed through her lung. Immediately I placed my guards down and rushed over to cradle her, heedless of the ichor seeping into my own fine garments or the danger of another gunshot striking me. In an instant of clarity I saw the goddess depart her mortal vessel and Platina's eyes became her own in that precious moment. She tried to say something, but her voice choked on the blood welling up in her throat. In the next breath her eyes turned up and she died in my arms, sinking heavily into my body as though unspeakably weary. "Platina!" I screamed, my voice breaking in sorrow. "Platina! No no no, you cannot die here, so far from your beloved Illyrica -!" I wailed as tears poured down my cheeks; looking up, I saw through tearstained eyelashes Renia and Merrimont emerge, the latter holding a revolver still smoking. Furious, I screamed at him, "What have you done?"

"We drove the goddess away, Your Highness," Renia explained sadly, showing me the ring on her finger. "The gate is sealed tightly enough to prevent any other individual from crossing, and this will shield her from finding the only other pawn she could wield here. But we had to take her by surprise."

I looked at Merrimont and he nodded somberly. "I apologize, Your Highness, for risking you so. You were the only person who could evoke sufficient emotion from the goddess to induce her to lower her guard. Even then we feared she might be invulnerable altogether." He stretched out his arms to take the body of the broken vessel from me. I sobbed, reluctant to release my oldest Illyrican friend to him. "Please, permit me," he intoned gently. "If you wish, we will bury her honorably as she was a friend of Your Highness. Will you permit the marquise to accompany you back to the palace?" Seeing the way I wept over my friend's body, he knelt down next to me and gave me his shoulder to lean upon.

Poor Platina, je n'ai même jamais fait ses adieux à elle.

A moment later, I felt Merphomenee's presence and power flood into my body. Immense potency, unbridled strength, clarity that no mortal could fully contain. It felt oddly similar to the time I had been submerged into her own consuming consciousness when she made Leannia and I accompany her to Phinos, except now I felt like a small, fragile box attempting to hold the raging torrent. My head swam dizzily and I dropped my friend's unmoving body. Such an intoxicating presence at once more profound than any mortal could hope to comprehend. When I opened my eyes they were no longer my own; Merphomenee stared through my face balefully at Renia Sundalicia, who had turned pale with fright, and Merrimont who looked at me in confusion.

I could not control my body's movements or voice any more, helpless as a marionette dancing at the strings of a puppet master skillfully manipulating me like a fine instrument. "Hail, my wayward vessel," I spoke.

"Merphomenee! How?" Renia squeaked in dismay. Merrimont inhaled sharply as well.

I extended my glove and caressed her hand where the Goddess' Grace rested. "I commend your cleverness, little Renia. Thinking to find two puppets for my hand to move when Summerlyn returned to Theraveria, only to immediately lose sight of both. Oh, did you not know about the princess?" I smiled icily. I slipped the ring off her nerveless finger as she whimpered in fright. "Summerlyn no doubt told you that she bathed deep in my milk and drank it freshly pressed from my bosom. And that made her a pawn in my collection too, a secret weapon kept hidden for the right moment."

"Merphomenee, goddess," Merrimont said quietly, "you must release my princess."

The goddess ran my own fingers through my golden locks, sighing contentedly. "Oh, how often I have longed to wear this lovely shell of flesh! From the first day I set my eyes upon her I have coveted Summerlyn. First her mind had to be shaped, her magic honed, her skin beautified that she might serve as a worthy companion for me. But she would not accept me, so she will instead serve as a vessel." I embraced myself unabashedly before my two wary witnesses. "Today one of my ambitions is fulfilled. Now, be silent and do not interrupt me as I fulfill the next." I stood up and brushed Platina's bloody stains from my dress in dignified fashion, then turned my attention to the gate and its latent power that longed to be used. With greater than mortal clarity I perceived now the cantrips that Renia used to seal the portal, spells that would stop even a goddess - but not from this side of the gate.

A gun barrel pressed into the back of my head. "Goddess, you must release my princess," Merrimont repeated himself, even more quietly than before.

I turned around and allowed the revolver to remain leveled at my forehead. Renia looked fearfully between me and Merry. "Can you do it, sir?" I asked him softly. She even used my voice! "Shoot me. Shoot your beautiful princess and prevent the tragedy to come. Your duty demands it." The goddess deliberately goaded him; at any moment the deadly barrel might flash and end my life. I sensed Merphomenee's intent; she would not stop this bullet. "She would want you to pull the trigger, sir. I promise you, on my sacred oath as goddess by the head of Jupiter himself, if you simply loose your bullet, I shall at once and immediately renounce all claims to Theraveria." She must have felt him hesitating, for she cruelly drove the blade deeper into his heart. "Your people will never know the terror of Merphomenee," I whispered seductively. "History will remember you as a hero. All I ask in return is Summerlyn Katalina, one life in exchange for one world. Her spirit will thank you when kept in my bliss." His hand trembled then, the barrel of his gun quaking. And then, most heartlessly of all, she made me murmur in tearful tones, "Merry, please, if you love me ... do not let her use me any further ..."

Renia's eyes darted back and forth between us, her knuckles white where she clutched her dress. Merrimont's lips curled back to show his teeth as he exhaled heavily, still hesitating until -

- He lowered his weapon.

My head nodded as the goddess accepted his momentous decision. Without another word I turned away and strode for the ruined gate in my fancy slippers, summoning the power within the ring in my hand. With her power flowing through me, my own inability to wield magic proved no obstacle at all. A gunshot reverberated behind me; had I been in possession of my own flesh I would have jumped, but instead I turned my head to glance back where Renia had seized Merrimont's revolver and fired at me. The bullet hovered motionless in the air a mere pace from my heart. "The choice was his, not yours," I told Renia. A moment later Merphomenee wrapped both of them tightly in magical bonds and forced them to kneel beside Platina's corpse, helpless to stop her anymore. All this gunfire had finally drawn the attention of Brabantine patrols. From the corner of my proximate vision I espied a dozen Brabantine musketeers arrive, their heavy boots pressing sharply on the cracked stone, glancing back and forth in confusion between myself, Platina's pale body, Renia and Merry.

"Stop her ..." Renia whispered, straining helplessly against Merphomenee's immense strength.

The magic buried deeply within the Goddess' Grace resonated with Merphomenee's divine might as I held it aloft over the ruined well. The aetherial bridge between our worlds began to coalesce again, magical torrents drawn up from deep within the earth shaped by the subtle spells in the ring. I felt Merphomenee concentrate entirely on her work, molding the tunnel within the gate by her force of will as she swiftly unraveled the protective spells. The massive cracked boulders and bricks deposited in the well began to sink through the magical gateway as it opened; Merphomenee sustained the work that previously required half a hundred conjurers all by herself and the magic she had reserved long ago within her trinket. Such massive artificing could not remain unnoticed within the city, of course, but she worked briskly and precisely with the practiced ease of a master. Distantly I heard bells sounding in alarm as the gate coalesced before me, shaping into a tunnel to join Theraveria with Illyrica.

The goddess released me and I immediately fell to my knees, spent by the strain of hosting her spirit. The magical wards which held Renia and Merrimont dissolved as well as she receded; I felt his strong hands underneath my arms lift me upright, but it was too late. One enormous feminine hand appeared over the lip of the dry chasm, rising monolithic out of the depths as it had that fateful moment years ago. The other swiftly followed; this time there was no magic of the goddess to protect me or turn back upon herself. The Brabantine infantry gabbled in their native tongue in surprise and bewilderment while they milled around in confusion. As the first horsemen riding from Louelle drew rein near the gate, I saw the terrifying sight that heralded the doom of an entire world, a visage I hoped I would never behold again. Titanic crimson curls of hair fell in graceful strands down her beautiful face as she lifted herself free of the gate, her hands pressing deeply into marble and stone beneath her ponderous weight.

At long last, Merphomenee set foot upon Theraveria.

ACT III: L'heure fatidique

"Why?" I screamed at Merrimont, struggling to be heard above the horrid thunder of shivering stone and howling winds. "Why did you not shoot me?"

There was no time to respond. Merrimont pushed me out of the way and flung himself down next to me as Merphomenee's massive hand reached down towards us. She plucked Renia up from the ground, the marquise's horrified shrieking receding rapidly as the goddess fastened three fingers around her. The hand and its prisoner moved inexorably to the well; Merphomenee dropped Renia in as Merrimont and I watched transfixed in morbid horror. From this distance we could not hear her wretched screams; my last sight of my friend was one of a distant woman flailing in a torn gray dress with her black hair whipping wildly about her as she disappeared past the lip of the gate, a recreant reclaimed by the unstoppable power of her mistress.

Merphomenee now stood to her full height, striking me speechless with her presence. Every bit as elegant and monumental as I so clearly remembered, the goddess wore a beautiful silk dress fashioned in the ornate Theraverian style, a maroon bodice crossed with ornate golden filigree and dressed with laces on the hems. Underneath she wore a corset to shape her slender figure. From our worms' perspective her breasts hung heavily within her low-cut neckline, a dozen thick corset stays straining heroically to contain their ample mass from spilling forth. The sleeves were bound at her elbows by ribbons and opened into elongated trailing tassels which flowed down her skirts, leaving her snowy white hands and lower arms bare with each finger tipped by a flawlessly manicured nail painted plum purple. She wore a golden girdle around her slim waist which had been embroidered with motifs from Illyrican mythology, cinched with velvet straps. Her voluminous dress rustled like an entire forest come to life with every grand step she took, for she wore another layer underneath her violet overskirt and white petticoats beneath those. White stockings peeped from beneath the menagerie of her skirts; with a pang in my heart I realized she wore the same shoes she had forced Leannia and myself to sleep within, fancy slippers with a formidable heel tall enough to walk upright underneath the arch. Some of her braids were plaited with golden ribbons which gleamed in sharp contrast to her scarlet tresses, and I noted with horror that she still wore dozens of elegant silver cages with men imprisoned inside on her skirts. Her perfume of rainflowers and honey wafted over me as she stepped over Merry and myself in a careless stride, the sky briefly darkening under a sea of skirts and petticoats. So accoutred in a ransom sufficient for ten kings, Merphomenee spared myself and Merrimont not a further glance as she turned her attention to the helpless city of Louelle. In one prodigious step she crossed the broad Carbannes River, the earth collapsing several paces beneath her ponderous tread wherever she placed her foot.

His face twisted in anguish as the titanic goddess descended upon the city, Merrimont cried, "Even for the world, how could I slay the woman I love?" Together we stared after Merphomenee, our hearts broken by fear of the slaughter to come.

Louelle, oh ma belle ville Louelle, what sin did you commit to be treated so cruelly at the hands of a pitiless goddess? She overshadowed the streets and apartments on the edge of the capital; though Merrimont and I stood too far to hear, I knew thousands must be screaming and wailing in terror at the sight of her. With one nonchalant step she obliterated the five-story housing ward at the edge of the Carbannes, renowned for its view of the lazy river. The apartment crumbled like a brittle cake underneath her slipper, the unfortunate occupants rendered extinct in a terrible instant.

I fell sobbing to my knees, the despairing sense of failure weighing heavily on my shoulders. Merrimont tried to catch a stray horse, but the animals had all turned crazed with terror. Taking the royal coach back to the city was out of the question and I had a brief argument with Merrimont wherein he urged me to flee posthaste; I replied that if he intended to return and fight, so would I. By dint of great effort we managed to calm a pair of war-trained stallions sufficiently for ourselves to mount and ride back across the bridge over the Carbannes. Merrimont urged his horse towards the city arsenals and I followed closely, my heart racing with fear. The city quaked underneath every stomp of Merphomenee's feet; we were forced to navigate around towering wreckage and deep shoeprints more than once, testimony to her unstoppable might. What would happen to us now?

In spite of my terror, I resolved to try and appeal to the goddess' mercy. Merrimont warned me not to go; heedless, I left him and raced to Merphomenee, pushing and urging my horse past throngs of citizens fleeing in panic. I saw her shoe descend upon the barber house at the intersection of the Rue de Poissons, the storefront immediately vanishing in a cloud of dust as the adjacent buildings trembled from the impact. All around me lay the crushed bodies of the poor victims who had failed to escape from the goddess' deadly tread, often marked by little more than bloody smears or limbs and heads separated from their owners. I coughed from the dust and smoke, tearing strips from my dress to mask my face as I urged my mount onwards. Merphomenee came to a belfry with an abandoned brass bell, whereupon she knelt and flicked it away with one dainty finger. The bell sounded once with a sharp peal as it sailed away to the far shore of the Carbannes.

I drew rein as closely as I dared, my horse having vaulted over crushed cobblestone roads, demolished buildings, and the snapped trunks of the many trees that once lined our streets. Only with difficulty did I succeed in controlling my mount, his nostrils no doubt awash with the terror sown by the goddess; when I dismounted, my horse immediately bolted away. "Merphomenee! Please, halt!" I screamed up at her. I could not tell if she even heard me; coming to a whitewashed, square apartment building, the goddess reached down with her hand and tore away a fistful that encompassed several rooms. I saw hapless men and women fall screaming out of her hand as she opened her fingers to drop a rain of demolished plaster and brick onto the chaotic streets below, covering my face to protect myself from the scattering hail of pebbles. Dozens of screaming families had stopped within a cul-de-sac at the end of the street, unable to flee further. Their frightened wails were drowned out by a fearful step of her slipper as I vainly entreated her to stop, immediately crushing a score of citizens and scattering the rest. Merphomenee drew her foot up and walked through the building in her way to descend upon the next avenue without even sparing a glance down for the lives she had so callously ended.

In my own slippers I could in no wise hope to reach her before she stepped further, so I peeled my pumps off. Panting from the exertion and the dust, I stopped in horror to gaze at the devastated scene of butchery which had just befallen. Crushed bones and gore littered the road where a massive indentation three paces deep had been made in the shape of a feminine slipper, mothers wailing for children slain and children crying for parents taken from them. A few men had been trapped beneath falling rubble and the citizens of Louelle struggled to free them. I heard a weak voice calling for me - "Please ... lady ..." - and I saw a man who had just lost one leg where Merphomenee's sharp heel had descended too close. He was missing his limb from mid-thigh down and he lay on his back in the middle of the street next to the hole gouged out by her stiletto stem, blood seeping from his torn trousers. "... A smoke ..." he gasped.

"Be brave!" I cried to him, seizing his arms and trying to drag him away. He proved far too heavy for me to move. "You will live!"

"No chance ... smoke ..." he wheezed, offering me his pipe.

There being no help for the matter, I seized the proffered pipe and lit it from one of the dozens of fires that seemed to have sprang up in Merphomenee's wake. I carried it back to the man, where he inhaled with a gasp as I held it to his lips. A thin wisp of scented tobacco fumes exhaled from his nostrils. He closed his eyes with a sigh and expired.

The peal of the city cannons announced that some Theraverian gunners had unlimbered the culverins and trained them upon Merphomenee. As I raced towards her, now on bare feet heedless of the bruising and cuts to my soles, I saw her smile in amusement at the frantic artillerymen. At close range they could not miss her voluminous gowns and the lower skirts of her dress were shot to tatters in short order, but the cannonballs bounced harmlessly off her divine skin even at point-blank range. I saw a squadron of cavaliers form and shoot their carbines at her feet with equal futility; she contemptuously swept them away with the arc of her slipper, crushing half of the brave men. Infantrymen three lines deep formed a wall of bristling bayonets and fired a volley of balls at the invincible goddess to no effect; Merphomenee ignored them as harmless nuisances until she deigned to step upon their massed ranks as well, reducing entire disciplined companies to leaderless squads in one horrifying instant. Oh courageous Theraverians, may your futile heroism live forever in the hearts of your surviving countrymen! I caught a stray horse and raced after Merphomenee again, crying up at her to cease her rampage.

I saw her head turn as her ears heard my plaintive cries, but she only gazed down imperiously at me. Then she deliberately raised her foot and set it down upon the beautiful Museum of Art, obliterating one of the gallery wings with its priceless oil paintings and wonderful sculptures with an insouciant step. The hapless citizens who had fled cowering into the museum for shelter now began to stream out, but not quickly enough; right before my horrified eyes, she demolished the other two wings and the heart of the building with a series of quick trots, almost as if dancing the minuet for me. This done, Merphomenee dipped in a mocking curtsy to me and regally swept away, leaving only dust and misery behind her.

I wanted to faint. I thought my heart would break from the suffering she so relentlessly caused, an unstoppable engine of destruction bent upon razing my beautiful Louelle, but even that relief was denied to me. Watching Phinos burn from her perspective had been agonizing enough, and now I witnessed this tragedy from the vantage of a mere mortal woman! Doggedly I gave chase, watching from afar as she pushed over the golden dome of the Royal Bank of Louelle and scattered all the treasures of its vaults with effortless strides. Gold ingots, innumerable thalers, and priceless heirlooms of jewels rained down on the cobblestone paths around the ruined bank, but the foolish citizens who scrambled for their wealth soon met death under Merphomenee's soles. She must have decided that she had suffered the insolence of the cannon enough as well, for the goddess turned and strolled unhurriedly towards the batteries established on the main boulevard of the city, her tattered dress scraping tiles off the roofs in her wake. This afforded the cannoneers a clear and unobstructed view of their target; they fired and their shots ricocheted harmlessly off her skin or merely expended themselves on her petticoats. The uniformed infantry formed a square of muskets to protect the great guns and their bullets proved equally useless against the goddess. Amused by their courageous futility, Merphomenee knelt and picked up one of the falconets with its barrel still smoking, holding it up to the sun to examine the detail. Following Brabantine tradition, each cannon had the words "Ultima Ratio Regum" stamped upon it from the forge; Merphomenee crushed the falconet between her fingers before carelessly dropping it. When she lifted her foot over the artillerymen they immediately abandoned their pieces and fled with cries of "Sauve qui peut!"

How can I fault them? The brave men who fought died in vain, powerless before Merphomenee's might. Command of the army and the prefects quickly broke down, unequal as they proved to the terrible adversary whom they could neither slow nor harm. I saw a few companies of the Brabantines enter the city to treat the wounded and attempt to usher our families out, bless their dauntless courage, but they fared no better than we. The surviving members of the Princess' Own Guard Knights perished that day as victims of her invincibility. She wandered outside of the city for a time and I hoped against hope that we might be spared further injury, but the sight of her stomping on the cultivated grounds told me that she simply wreaked havoc on the elegant manors of the nobility which lay outside the city. Flocks of cattle and herds of horses in her path were not spared. The beautiful estate of the Duc d'Estang, where I had agreed to become the goddess' student in the magical arts during the debutante dance, turned to rubble beneath her slippers. Nor was the estate of the Marquis de Vautonlieu passed over and he himself perished like countless others under Merphomenee's sole, never knowing what had become of his lovely wife. A quarter of the nobility perished on that dreadful day, including many of my treasured friends with whom I had fond memories. We Theraverians as a rule are not spiritual people, but I heard earnest prayers all around me in the face of Merphomenee's unbridled power.

The flags and tents of the Brabantine army besieging Louelle had been struck not long after Merphomenee's entry to the city. Some of the horsemen managed to save themselves by scattering, but the massed men now suffered under her power as Merphomenee trampled upon them. Their musketry and cannonry availed them nothing, picking off a few of the caged prisoners she wore as a fashion statement but unable to so much as scratch her skin. She showed no regard for the laws of war, her bloodsplattered shoes obliterating the field hospitals with their patients and creating thousands more invalids among the Brabantine army. Dust and smoke soon obscured any sight of the Brabantine camps from the city; only the fearful thunder of her footsteps reminded us constantly of the relentless devastation she wrought upon our quondam adversaries, now united with us as equal victims of a heartless goddess. The sensible Brabantines fled across the Theraverian countryside; but many of their companies had been entrenched too closely to the city to do more than flee within.

She turned to the city again once she had satisfied herself that the countryside had been suitably devastated. Hapless refugees caught fleeing on the roads from Louelle were reduced to dust beneath her soles; this time she reached down and tore apart the bridges over the river Carbannes or simply stepped upon them as she returned, trapping those who could not ford the river on the east side of the city. L'auditorium Populaire with its distinct flat roof she did not spare, the great opera house so grand that even she was obliged to leave more than a score of footprints within its ruined grounds. Before the theater stood a sculpture of a general carved by the great Aguierre; towering over men on his rearing horse, it looked comically insignificant next to Merphomenee's ankles, and the goddess placed the arch of her heel over the statue, decapitating the stone equine and breaking off the man's granite torso. I flung myself at Merphomenee's feet beseeching her to halt her rampage, throwing my arms around a frightened child as though my pitiful self could protect her; she simply stepped around me. A pitiful sight I must have been, covered in dust and grime with my face and hair blackened by soot and smoke, my dress torn, stained by the sweat of exertion and the gore of our helplessness. Yet somehow the goddess still knew me.

Merphomenee stepped on a glassworker's shop as she traipsed unhurriedly towards the Rue d'Hiver, scattering fragments of glass in every direction. In panic lest she destroy the beautiful salon where the Comtesse de Rouillart and her coterie of learned men congregated, I pushed my mount thither and reached the building before Merphomenee managed to tread upon it. I cried for Merphomenee to stop as I dismounted and raced inside; the comtesse herself was present, tight-lipped and pale of face, but otherwise the salon had been abandoned. Under the rumor of her steps much of the beautiful pottery and the dishware had shattered on the floor. Before I could explain myself to her, Merphomenee's slipper broke through the ceiling and I screamed as the entire building collapsed around me. I found myself beneath the shank of her shoe, protected from the falling rubble by her intervening foot above my quaking head, but the comtesse did not share my fortune. When Merphomenee withdrew her foot and sunlight poured in, I found the comtesse pinned beneath a fractured cabinet that the building had fallen upon. "Oh oh! I shall find help for you! Help us! Is anyone out there?" I cried, calling for aid.

"Nevermind me!" the comtesse cried. "Save yourself and those you can!" Seeing the comtesse stuck firmly beneath the wreck of the salon and no one able to render aid, I reluctantly left her behind mutually weeping. Later I learned that she perished when the flames spread to the ruined building. So too did most of the salon's intellectual circle, many of Louelle's brightest sons and daughters.

Dust and fire choked the street, obscuring my vision. I could only tell where Merphomenee walked now by the thunderous quaking which emanated from her every step. All around me people screamed and fled and hid, trapped in the city by destroyed buildings or deep shoeprints. She destroyed the Odeum de Chapplette without so much as a sentimental thought; not one of Louelle's theaters or opera houses survived her rampage. The great cathedral on the banks of Carbannes she also demolished, paying no heed to any claims that a rival religion might have on affinity with the divine. The Carbannes river ran brown with dust and mud for a week after her destructive tour through Louelle.

In bare and bleeding feet I could not hope to keep pace with the lethal goddess. I wandered blankly through the city attempting to follow the goddess' steps when a man rode out of the dust and swept me up behind him on his horse; my brother in an army uniform, every bit as disheveled as I, riding one of the very few serviceable remaining mares. "Sister, you are safe!" he shouted, his voice breaking with relief. "Please, flee at once! The city is doomed!"

"Brother!" I could have wept at the sight of him. "No, please! The goddess may listen to me if I humble myself before her enough! Oh, this is all my fault! I should never have come back!"

"Nonsense, Summer!" He had to shout above the din to be heard as he struggled to control his mount. A particularly loud series of crashes announced the destruction of Louelle's oldest library with its priceless archive of irreplaceable books. "She is beyond reason! Mother is hiding in the palace and refuses to leave. Please, go and convince her to flee with you, sister!"

Startled by this news, I coughed and shouted back, "Then I'll go! But what of papa?"

"Father is in command of the few soldiers still able to fight," Charlemont yelled.

"And Sir Merrimont? What will you do, brother?"

"I have not seen or heard of Sir Merry. Worry not for me, I will try to keep our people moving along the only roads that are still passable out of the city!" he cried. The mare struggled to bear both of us, so I dismounted a safe distance away from the giantess who even then rampaged through the markets. My brother put his spurs to the horse and raced into the smoky mayhem again, covered in dust. That was the last time I saw Crown Prince Charlemont Hafarlin alive in this world, a hero and martyr to the Theraverian people at the tender age of nineteen.

My feet ached from all the running and riding I had done, my tender soles bruised by the paved streets and my lungs gasping for clean air. Worse, I felt Merphomenee's footsteps approaching steadily as she turned her attention towards some domiciles she had left undisturbed until now. When her enormous feminine silhouette materialized out of the dust almost directly above me, I screamed and threw myself to the ground. For a heartstopping moment I feared she would tread upon me; instead, her fingers gently lifted me up off the street and without a word she carried me to the royal palace, clear of much of the smoke and dust rising from the burning city. I could feel her mighty footsteps through the vibrations of her skin, and I screamed hoarsely from the vertigo. I also screamed appealing to her to stop, begging her to stay her hand and spare my people, humbling myself so far as to kiss her gore-stained hand in supplication; she blithely ignored me. The people and animals who vanished beneath her shoes did not even give her pause. She laid me down on the balcony outside of my bedchamber, this tall protrusion overtopped by her waist, and when I turned my head to look up at her face I instead saw a mountainous bosom looming ominously above me. Merphomenee stepped away to resume her annihilatory spree.

I wasted no time after throwing on a pair of comfortable shoes, rushing through the palace corridors searching frantically for my mother. Many of the expensive vases and paintings in the royal palace had toppled from the shockwaves of Merphomenee's steps, lying broken and fractured on the thick carpet. Citizens of Louelle milled helplessly in the halls where they had taken shelter from the goddess' rampage; frantically I asked where the queen might be and called for people to flee before Merphomenee came to destroy the palace, but few heeded me in the chaotic panic which had enveloped the entire horde. I saw mothers trying to comfort terrified children, elderly men and women staggering about supporting each other, a few looters stealing valuables from the palace, even some Brabantine soldiers seeking shelter, and the cries of fear crescendoed every time the palace shook from a nearby footfall. Why did they hide here? Did they imagine that the goddess would actually spare this building, the grandest in all Louelle? I shook dust from my hair and passed through the throne room; mother was not present. I found one of the few domestic servants who had remained and bid her direct me to mother. She told me that the queen had gone to the music hall and then fled.

I found mother sitting in the music room with her ladies-in-waiting, all clutching their fans fearfully, fervent prayers for mercy mixed amid their lamentations. "Mother, mother!"

"Is that ... is that Summerlyn, my dear daughter?" Queen Heloise exclaimed, staring at my dusty and bedraggled dress and my blood encrusted skin. She had lost her spectacles somewhere. "Oh child, you are safe!"

"Mother, please, flee at once! She will destroy the palace when she is done with the city!" I cried. Just as Merphomenee had reserved the grand temple in Phinos as a pièce de résistance, so I feared how she conspicuously avoided the royal palace. "Please, listen to me! Father and Charlemont are taking refugees from Louelle and we must join them!" I begged desperately.

Mother stared at me, uncomprehending. "... Summerlyn, no, it is too dangerous outside! Stay with your dear old mother," she murmured faintly. She would not be moved; the calamity befalling the city had robbed the poor woman of all wit. I heard her feebly calling for one of the coterie to amuse them with a song on the harp. She also called for King Marchand and Prince Charlemont, anxiously asking if any man who raced past the doors were her husband or son. Tears fell and washed my cheeks as I pleaded and begged, but in the end I had to abandon my mother and her circle. My final sight of her was through tearstained eyelashes, sitting in the music room fanning herself and crying for me to return as I fled. Sometimes in my saddest nightmares I still see her so clearly, heartbroken by my abandonment, her plaintive voice winding like a skein of yarn through my dreams begging me not to leave her. Always I am reluctant to awaken in tears with my grief renewed. Oh mère, pardonne ta fille!

At the vestibule of the palace I forced my way out against the contrary throngs of wretched survivors crowding through the doors, brown and dusty from the chaos. Flames had spread throughout the city, giving rise to a hazy gray smoke which obscured much of the sunlight, but the steady earthquake of a giantess' tread assured me that Merphomenee's destructive tour continued unabated. I do not know if my heart could have withstood the sight of Louelle's beautiful architecture and ancient heritage vanishing to satisfy her vengeful lusts. The city zoo was reduced to an unrecognizable collection of footprints and mangled bodies contorted in bloody corpses within feminine shoe craters. The beautiful Université Venteuse she trampled into dust, destroying the institute where generations of the finest Theraverian minds had studied, leaving only a ruined husk of a campus. I saw a few uniformed soldiers directing refugees away from the palace and towards the streets. From them I discovered that the southwest road out of Louelle could still carry traffic and I fled thither, too disoriented to discern cardinal directions and only mingling with the frightened masses of humanity tramping that way.

Before we reached the city limits, however, Merphomenee circled around into our path. The throng of refugees quailed, unwilling to risk the imminent danger, and then we screamed and fled as she began to trample upon the fleeing crowds. Blood ran freely through the streets; so many perished beneath her soles that for weeks afterwards the roads themselves turned greasy with human lipids. Trapped by rubble on all sides, my poor people had no chance at all to hide themselves. Most who could not run tried to beg for mercy, but she ignored them all and crushed them without so much as a considering glance. Her bloody slipper descended upon me as well and I shrieked in fear, but for a second time that day I found myself cowering underneath her arch as the family next to me vanished beneath her sole, plunged into the reeking smell of blood and flesh for a nauseous moment. I fell to the stones from the shock of the step; when she lifted her shoe and walked away, I was left the only unhurt survivor of over two score men and women caught by her tread. Next to me a young child vainly clutched a bloody severed arm, all that was of her mother.

Words do not suffice to describe the suffering that my people - and yes, our erstwhile Brabantine enemies too - endured that day. Merrimont found me in my bloodstained and dusty dress then as Merphomenee heartlessly stepped away; he too had been wounded where a shivered timber fell on his arm and he clutched his sides with his good hand. He had lost his weapons. "Your Highness!"

"Merry! You still live!" I cried. I collapsed against his body, overwhelmed by the shock and the horror, surrounded by a sea of the dead and dying as the stench of bodies assailed my nostrils. How well the carrion birds feasted! I leaned against him as he struggled to bring me out of the burning city, always glancing fearfully around ourselves whenever the ground shook beneath Merphomenee's steps. "You should have killed me when you had the chance!" I reproached him bitterly. He made no reply, but the agonized expression twisted on his face told me that he must also have sorely repented of his restraint.

At the edge of the city we paused. The omnipresent smoke and dust cleared for brief moments; the sun burned low in the late afternoon - how few hours had passed since the goddess first climbed out of the gate? Oh how foolish we had been, blindly constructing the very cause of our demise! I clutched Merrimont's arm in horror as I saw Merphomenee finally turn her attention to the royal palace, its white walls, beautiful glass windows, and lofty turrets comically diminutive when overshadowed by the goddess' gigantic body. She methodically stepped all around the palace first, overthrowing the lovely gardens in which she and I had once spent so much time absorbed in idle gossip and lessons of magic. The wretched escapees from the city now lay trapped within the palace with nowhere to flee. The goddess dismantled my lovely home, plucking up the towers and peeling away the roofs to expose the terrified people within. From time to time she would grasp an individual whom she fancied in her slender fingers and lift him or her clear before carelessly tossing the body away. Then she began to press her hands to the walls and tear the stones with her slippers. I watched mesmerized by horror, spellbound by her cruelty as she razed the palace down to its foundations, leaving only a handful of survivors traumatized by her indifferent power. Nothing survived of the palace save rubble and ruin.

I buried my head in Merrimont's shoulder and wept unabashedly when Merphomenee finished the palace, throwing my arms around him disconsolately. In one brutal afternoon she had destroyed my world with minimal effort. Merrimont wept too, that brave and chivalrous gentleman equally helpless in the face of the goddess. He attempted to flee as Merphomenee's footsteps drew near, pulling my dusty glove and my leaden feet as her immense hand closed around us, such was the despair that had drained my will. She placed me in one bloody palm and effortlessly separated him from me, holding him in her other hand. Vainly I reached for his comforting presence; he futilely stretched his arms to me as well.

"No! Spare him! Si vous avez encore de l'affection pour moi!" I cried to her.

Merphomenee squeezed; he vanished instantly into her cruel fist. Brave, chivalrous Merrimont, to whom I had lost my heart, who might in time have replaced the goddess in my esteem - a final victim of my foolishness. When she opened her fingers again his body could not be distinguished from any of the other bits of viscera clinging to her skin.

I screamed then, a horrible anguished wail keening from my lips. I furiously beat my tiny fists against Merphomenee's soft palm, succeeding only in bruising myself. I shrieked my hatred for her into her impassive face as she lifted me up to her eyes, stamping my feet on her hand. The deadliest invective I poured at her, naming her slave and poltroon in my malisons. She merely gazed at me without comment, waiting patiently until my fury expended itself and I collapsed into her warm grasp, my chest heaving with sobs, the sharp iron tang of dried blood filling my nostrils. Her gentleness with me seemed all the crueler when juxtaposed against the cold indifference with which she had destroyed Louelle, murdered my people, and broken the siege.

The survivors of her tumult peered timorously from what little sanctuary they had found as she raised her voice to utter a proclamation that reverberated over the smoking ruins. Like thunder her voice rolled inexorably over us, causing many to fall to their knees in reverence. "Hear now my everlasting decree, oh mortal inhabitants of Louelle. This day Merphomenee has graced you with her presence and annexed your nation into her demesne. You shall promptly rebuild this city, greater and grander than before, and you shall flourish under the beneficent rule of your new goddess. In return you shall yearly render the tribute due a goddess without fail. By divine right I appoint Summerlyn Katalina as your new queen, and her daughters shall reign forever after her. Worship me and live."

Limp with listless torpor as I lay in the goddess' hand, I wept for my broken city, my slaughtered family, and my massacred populace. I barely noticed when she lowered her palm and deposited me on a grassy flowerbed spared her ordeal, so trapped I felt by the oppressive misery. Merphomenee stepped away with graceful, elegant strides and vanished through the Goddess' Gate back to Illyrica; I did not see my lovely, fearsome goddess depart our world. As a memento of her rampage she left a single gigantic slipper by the gate that could no longer be closed, still covered in dust and gore - do you remember how she once said that a woman's shoes are her statement? And what an awful proclamation they had been to us! The sun dipped below the horizon and evening gave way reluctantly to night before I finally fell into fitful slumber, gripped in melancholy grief from which I thought I would never recover.

A tenth of Louelle's population perished in that momentous event, forever known afterwards as the Day of Merphomenee, and another quarter may have died of injury and exposure afterwards. The besieging Brabantine army had lost much of its leadership and suffered no less than we, forced to find what shelter remained in Louelle afterwards. My heart aches describing the sorrowful times which followed. I had been spared the aftermath of Phinos; the burden of Louelle she placed directly on my shoulders. Merphomenee sent a vessel to Louelle the very next morning, where she healed a few of the injured and oversaw establishment of her government in Theraveria with me at the head. During the night Uncle Fonteaubleau had attempted to organize the survivors and maintain a semblance of order, but Merphomenee immediately shrank him as she had done to her other victims. Such a message could not be mistaken: my rule alone would she tolerate. Prompted by the goddess' decree, my people came to me for guidance that I felt inadequate to provide. Merrimont, my brother, and my mother had all met their demises; my father yet lived unharmed, but the light in his eyes had been extinguished forever. King Marchand ate little and spoke not at all, wasting away with his sunken gaze always staring hollowly at nothing, and he died of a broken heart in little more than a year's time. The goddess took the body of Platina Titiana away from Theraveria, burying her by the oceanside shrine where she had tended to me. Her daughter survived the destruction unscathed, but Renia Sundalicia herself I never saw again.

I roused myself from my torpid trance to care for my afflicted people only by a supreme effort of will.

News of the atrocity immediately spread from Louelle. Within a month a Brabantine mission arrived to express heartfelt condolences and to offer aid, assistance which I accepted gratefully. The nearby Allemagnian principalities too hastened in proffering consolation. Assistance came from as far away as Anglica and Sylvania, and many a foreign diplomat stared in abject horror when shown through the devastated districts. My suffering people desperately needed food and shelter, and the doleful duty of burying the many corpses occupied us for months. Merphomenee indeed blessed us with gentle rains, bountiful harvests, and peaceful days, none of which lessened the abject fear and awe in which my people ever after held her. Wherever her vessel walked citizens of Louelle reluctantly bowed and curtsied on trembling knees with perspiring brows, and mothers hid their children from her. She never occupied my body again, a small mercy in these trying times. How bitterly I reproached myself for allowing this sorrow to come to pass - had I simply yielded my heart to the goddess at her most vulnerable, could all this have been avoided? Sometimes I fancied I saw the ghosts of the slain wordlessly accusing me.

From the Day of Merphomenee forth I only wore the black dress of mourning. The heralds recorded my long reign as that of Queen Summerlyn Katalina Magna, but you, faithful reader, are more like to colloquially know me as the Despondent Queen. That is how I appear in my regnal portraits: beautiful and stately, but tinged with a melancholy that no mirth could alleviate. The goddess' upright slipper we cleaned and restored by her command, laboriously transporting it to the center of the city as a stark reminder of the fear that now controlled our lives. The people never accepted it as a monument, however, and we instead built a separate shrine to our fallen brothers and sisters. No affection or warmth could possibly exist between myself and the goddess anymore, so I always spoke with her vessel in aloof, formal manner. I never married or took a lover; instead, in my old age I adopted a granddaughter of Renia Sundalicia with Merphomenee's approval to name as heiress-apparent and she became the Crown Princess of Theraveria.

Merphomenee descended without warning on the Brabantine capital a year later, an event by all accounts as destructive as the visit upon Louelle, witnessed by dignitaries from across the world. Any lingering resistance to her rule vanished; cowed into submission by her invincible power, the kings of Europa resigned themselves to her loathsome game of annual tribute. As time passed Louelle recovered in body, indeed rebuilding more beautiful than she had been before. The new palace required twenty years to erect and surpassed the old in every conceivable luxury; if you happen to visit Louelle, please come inside and see for yourself. My people raised new schools and universities, theaters and odeums, banks and museums and galleries, and the tragic play became a staple of the Louelle city culture. The Nouveau Theraverian architecture has been described as haunting by critics, built ever conscious of the possibility that it could be swept away in an instant by a whimsical goddess. Trade flourished as well, not only between the cities of Europa but also from Theraveria to Illyrica. The Goddess' Gate we rebuilt and expanded into a grand market promenade where citizens of both worlds could freely mingle. Thus I received regular letters from Renia and sent many to her, but my collection of her missives is now worn with use and much rereading. In my twilight years I reigned over a city and a nation that exceeded the capital of my youth in beauty and riches, clothed in queenly wealth but scarred in spirit. We seldom danced or sang anymore, our lives occupied by industry and construction rather than amusing social diversions. The refined tastes and manners of the people steadily gave way to baser indulgences. The blow to the Theraverian soul dealt on the Day of Merphomenee never healed.

I tell you this account, reader of mine, weary of life as I am at the end of my days, to help you glimpse the mind of the divine. Once there existed a warm and gentle affection between mortal and goddess, a young princess named Summerlyn Katalina and an ageless muse named Merphomenee who loved each other deeply but could not reconcile their different natures. To be separated from one's love is, I think, the deepest tragedy of all. I longed to be cherished as a woman; she would have mortals worship her freely; both of our fleeting dreams simply proved tragically impossible by the very reality of our unequal existences. She cared for me as much as she could bring herself to do and I adored her by my very own helplessness. To prostrate myself before her power, to grovel at her feet, to know that my life lay in the palm of her hand - how could any mortal devote herself to an omnipotent goddess more perfectly? How could the fullest measures of burnt sacrifice, of ardent prayer, of choral song compare with the manifest transcendence of a woman exposed in her utterly honest powerlessness? That is the truth I learned from her. If you see my beautiful tragic goddess one day, still ageless, still majestic, still lonely, I bid you commend me to her, for I have never ceased to pine for what could have blossomed between us. Therein lies the essence of mortality - it is the only trait that gives human life any meaning at all.

In the end, we all exist to eternally worship Merphomenee.



FIN.