Читать книгу Youngest Son of the Water King. A bride for the water prince - Natalie Yacobson - Страница 7

The ghastly face she’d seen in the pond wouldn’t leave her mind. The nose of the gondola drew a smooth line of spray on the water of the narrow channel, and she saw the face of the green prophetess.

The gondola was luxurious, but without an inner cabin with a canopy in which to hide. She had to sit under the supervision of a page, who turned out to be a gondolier. He handled the oar very skillfully.

Desdemona was accustomed to see gondolas exclusively with a cabin, over which the canopy spread like a tent. Where else would noblemen hide from the servants if not in the closed cabin of the gondola? Apparently, it was to remain under the supervision of the gondolier’s page during the short voyage. He explained that this canal would take them straight to the house where her stepmother was staying. It was very unusual. There were no direct channels to anywhere. They branched off, flowing into others. It was hard to swim to the target. Sounds like a lie. But the narrow channel did wind in an endless ribbon, going forward. Daffodils and irises grew along the sides of the canal. The gilded face of a female jellyfish on the nose of the gondola squinted unkindly at Desdemona. Just like a living thing. Once it even seemed to wink at her.

The pageboy’s hands looked like toad’s feet with webbing between the fingers. Maybe he’s a freak.

“You’re not sailing toward your destination, you’re sailing away from it,” came a hiss from the water. A green vapor rose above the gondola, as if the water had become a swamp. Desdemona saw overboard a familiar face framed by vipers and shrieked.

“Don’t be frightened!” The henchman was paddling as if nothing had happened.

“Did you hear that too?” She almost jumped on the spot. Why is he so indifferent? Does he have a weapon on him?

“They’re green divas.”

“What do you mean?” Desdemona’s never heard that before.

“Divas are creatures of the swamps,” the boy explained coolly. “They are usually women who look like water gods and can see the future. There are also male divas, but they are dangerous monsters. They live in the jungle. It’s risky to meet them. Swamp divas sometimes crawl into the water to muddy it and foretell bad luck.”

And he says it so calmly! Desdemona’s heart grew cold.

“Can they overturn the boat?”

“They might sink it, but they won’t. I’m with you, and I know them. You’re safe.”

That’s great! She has a child bodyguard. Maybe it’s his age that makes him so brave about the fairy tale creatures he sees. Children don’t know how dangerous fairy tales can be.

“How old are you?”

“I am at least a few hundred years old. What’s it to you?” snapped at the henchman.

“Don’t take offense! I understand perfectly well that you need to eat at any age, so no one is too young to work.”

“But they tell me that I am too old to work on the land,” said the henchman sullenly. “I’m going to work at the palace for the last hundred years, and then I’m going to be a boatman. I’ll make sure that not too many Aquillanians are dragged to the bottom by mermaids. It’s Prince Moran’s decree. Oh, I mean the King of Aquilania.”

“It is the new king. You know him personally?”

“I was talking.”

The page was sadly silent. He didn’t look old at all. He was a boy with a boy’s face and brown skin. Not white skin, but greenish for some reason. He must have had swamp fever when he was a baby. It turned his skin green. Many children died of it in the cradle. They said they were stolen by mermaids.

The henchman also looked as if he’d been briefly kidnapped and then brought back to earth by watermen.

“Sometimes I forget myself,” he tried to excuse himself. “Actually, I’m not very good with my head. I can’t remember certain human traditions. For example, you should never say what you think. It’s considered impolite on land.”

“But we’re on the water now. Say what you want. What did you say about the swamp divas? How accurate are their prophecies?”

“One hundred percent,” he said without thinking.

Desdemona was frightened.

“And what motivates them to surface to predict people’s fate?”

Now the henchman wondered.

“It is common to ask about summoning them to ask them their fate.”

“There were enough fortune-tellers in the market square.”

“There are fortune-tellers everywhere. But a diva will only make an accurate prophecy if you call her across a lake or a pond. You need clean water.”

“It is curious,” Desdemona shivered, remembering the vision in the garden.

“One must throw a gold coin into the pond and drop one’s own blood. Then a green diva will appear from the water and utter a prediction. But someone in the family will die after that. The death of a relative is the price for her summoning.”

“But no one in my family has died, except for the maid.”

“Did you summon her?”

“I don’t think so. She did show up unexpectedly, just showing up in the pond.”

“Well, then why are you worried?”

“I’m afraid of everything. Especially my stepmother’s frivolity and that my brothers will drown during the long voyage.”

“All you young human ladies are so fragile and fearful,” the henchman said with a careless snicker.

So much was it for her gratitude for pouring out her soul to him. One should never be frank with servants. Stepmother was right. She often lectured Desdemona. Her admonitions made her ears ache.

“Here we go!”

The canal, oddly enough, flowed right to the doorstep of the small cottage. The water collected in a small pool around the steps leading up to the porch. The base of the staircase was underwater, and on the door instead of a handle hung a ring embedded in a bas-relief in the shape of some terrifying sea creature. Desdemona was even frightened.

The gondola docked at the half-submerged steps.

“That’s it! I must go back to the palace,” the page helped her out of the gondola.

What hands he has! Desdemona shuddered at the touch of webbed fingers partially covered with scales. Even swamp fever doesn’t leave marks like that.

“Thank you for bringing it,” she said forcefully. You have to be polite.

“Thank the king. He’s the one who told me to escort you home.”

“Who did it?”

That sounds too fanciful. More like a corny boy’s joke. Who doesn’t know that every poor provincial girl dreams of attracting the king’s attention? Desdemona turned sharply with the intention of reprimanding the pageboy for his insolence, but both he and the gondola were already gone. The canal they had come from had somehow disappeared with them. Only a path overgrown with daffodils led to the cottage. There was not even a puddle near the cottage.