The Four Gifts of the King Read online

  The man opened the door of his carriage and shouted, “Come quick and get in.” Steward jumped in, and the man pushed in beside him and slammed the door. The driver took off, leaving the crowd as they pressed in on the carriage windows.

  “Whew, it’s a relief to get out of there. And who exactly are you?”

  “My name is Steward. I am visiting Marikonia.”

  “I’m Tristin. Welcome to the Light District. It is the only place to live in this dreadful country. You must stay with me and tell me of your life. Driver, let’s get home.”

  Tristin was a bit shorter than Steward, very slender and quite pale. It looked as if a stiff wind would knock him over. His cheeks were pointed and his lips were thin. He did not look healthy or handsome, and again Steward wondered what attracted the admiration from the adoring crowd now disappearing in their back window.

  “Finally, we are free. So, Steward, what brings you to a place like Marikonia?”

  How much should he say? How safe was this new companion?

  Just be honest. Let’s see where this goes.

  “I am on a journey to see the king. I come from the land of Aiden Glenn, and I have been sent on this journey to learn the meaning of my name and my destiny.”

  “Sounds wonderful! A journey to see the king. How exciting! You must tell everyone. They will be so interested to hear your story.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Yes, there’s always a party going on in the Light District.”

  And indeed there was. The carriage turned in to the entrance of a palatial home, where music and voices rang from the windows and balconies. Steward followed Tristin from the carriage to be met by shouts of welcome and raised glasses from many strolling outside under the illuminated pole lights lighting the courtyard. Steward followed his host up the stairs and into the great entryway, where they left their coats and were handed glasses of wine.

  Tristin raised his glass and swept his hand across the room. “Steward, welcome to my house. A bit humble, but suitable nonetheless.”

  He looked around. This is anything but humble. This would fit right in in Petitzaros.

  Great chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and everywhere were ornate gold moldings, tapestries, marble, and statuary. As Steward observed the guests, he was no longer surprised to see that most were quite ordinary-looking and some were downright homely. Everything—the surroundings, the people—all had the feel of phoniness to it.

  Tristin motioned to Steward. “Come meet everyone.”

  Steward was introduced around to dozens of the Light District’s finest citizens. There were actors, artists, wealthy landowners, and garishly dressed women. There were political leaders, athletes, and religious leaders of all kinds. One by one, Steward looked at each as he was introduced.

  What was so special about these people—and so ordinary about Abner and his family?

  Then two peculiar things caught Steward’s eye. The first was the presence of mirrors everywhere he looked. Enormous mirrors on the walls, ceilings, and backs of doors. You could not look in any direction without seeing your image. And that was the second thing Steward noticed. In the mirrors of Tristin’s house, everyone’s reflection was distorted in the same flattering way that his own had been after the Phaedra held his Reflector. Homely women looked ravishing, and silly-looking men appeared rugged and handsome. Steward caught a glimpse of his own reflection, and sure enough, his image was a distorted—albeit wonderful—version of his true self.

  Or was it actually his true self?

  As he pondered that for a moment, something else about the gathering hit him. Everywhere Steward looked…

  There were Phaedra.

  Dozens of them, perhaps hundreds. They emerged from the shadows and retreated so quick it was easy to miss them, but they were there in force. Every person in the room inclined at one time or another to listen to a Phaedra. Many stood and admired themselves in one of the mirrors. Laughter or a smile of deep admiration almost always followed the encounter.

  The evening wore on, and Steward realized that Abner and Edith might be worrying about him. He made his way to Tristin, who was surrounded by women listening to him tell stories of his adventures. The intoxicating effect of the wine was making it hard to concentrate as Steward reached Tristin. Before Steward could speak, his host turned to him.

  “Steward, there you are. I am boring these people with my silly stories, yet here you are on your noble quest to see some great king. Come and tell us about your adventures. Everyone, come and listen to our guest. He has a great tale to tell us.”

  Here? Now? My story? Dare I tell them?

  He didn’t even like these people. He’d wanted to tell them what they actually looked like, but he would be a good guest. Mother would expect as much from him.

  Steward told the partygoers about Aiden Glenn, his house in Petitzaros, the daring escape from Ascendia, and the way the moor changed from bog to meadow. He left out any talk of Zedekai or Astrid or Dunston. They were too good to be mentioned in this place.

  At every turn of his story, the listeners responded with sighs, gasps, and applause. When he finished, everyone gave out a great “hurrah,” and many shook his hand and patted him on the back. He became aware of the time, realizing it was even later now. Steward got Tristin’s attention away for a moment from two wrinkled old women.

  “Tristin, I do thank you for such a wonderful party, but I must get word back to Abner the Blacksmith as to my whereabouts. I am staying with them, and they’ll be worried about me. Can you help?”

  One of the women snarled at Steward. “Abner the Blacksmith! Why are you staying with them? What a dreadful experience you must have had. Tristin, our young adventurer must stay here with you and not return to that disgusting place.”

  Tristin’s face tightened in horror. “Yes, absolutely! You will be my guest here. Good heavens, why didn’t you tell me you were being held against your will in that forsaken place? I will have the guestroom prepared for you at once.”

  “No, thank you, but that is not necessary. I rather like staying with them. I just need a carriage to take me there. Can you arrange that?”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort!” the woman cried out. “No one from the Light District stays on the outskirts with the likes of Abner, his two horrible sons, or that mongrel daughter of theirs.”

  Steward’s heart raced and his face grew red hot. How dare this woman say such a thing! Words escaped him before he could restrain them. “Good lady, I will have you know that Abner and Edith are kind and caring people. And, unlike you, with your leathery, wrinkled skin and bony nose, and unlike the rest of these fake and phony so-called beautiful people, Claire is the most beautiful woman I have seen in all of Marikonia.”

  A collective gasp shot across the room.

  Then absolute silence.

  Tristin’s eyes were the size of Edith’s dinner plates as he stared at Steward. Phaedra all around the room moved close to the assembled people and whispered in their ears. The awkwardness of the moment was broken by the sneering voice of the woman in front of Steward. She enunciated each word with a venomous tone. “You, my dear stupid young boy, are an imposter. You do not belong here. We have been having sport with you, and you are too naive to see it. Have you not seen your image in Tristin’s mirrors tonight?”

  Steward was indignant. Of course he had.

  “Yes, I have seen it. What of it? My image is just as distorted as yours. You see a beautiful woman, but you’re an old hag. It is a trick, an illusion to make you all think you are something special when you are not.”

  He should stop, but for some reason his inhibitions were gone and his anger overtook him. He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “It is an illusion you use to justify your own arrogance, and you lord it over others. What gives you the right to think you are better than everyone else…better than Abner and Edith and Claire? You are the fakes, the deluded, and the stupid. You cannot even see who you really are. Well, I wi
ll tell you. You are ordinary and plain and not at all worthy of the Light District!”

  People began booing him, but the woman in front of him was unfazed. When Steward finished, she turned to him like a lioness ready to pounce on its prey. “Perhaps you need to take another look at yourself. You seem to be quite sure of what is beautiful and what is not, what is good and true and what is false. So tell us—tell us all who you see, young Steward. Take a very good look.”

  At her words, the crowd parted in front of Steward, allowing him to look right into the large mirror at the end of the room.

  As his gaze met the mirror’s surface, he was staggered by the image that shot back at him. Gone was the handsome face he had seen just moments ago, and in its place was an even more hideous image than the one he had struggled to explain since he arrived in Marikonia.

  As he stared, somewhere in the room someone began to laugh. As more and more people joined in the laughter, everyone assembled produced their own Reflectors and pointed them at Steward. In each one, he saw the hideous reflection. Everywhere he turned, Reflectors were thrust in front of him so that he could not escape the image.

  Steward cried out in anguish as the laughter grew louder and louder. Even Tristin joined in, looking delighted at his suffering. Steward ran out of the house with the sounds of laughter still ringing from the windows. He ran into the courtyard and down past the entrance gate of Tristin’s house. He ran through the streets of Marikonia until he came to the place where he had left Abner and his sons.

  His head was swirling and his heart racing. Exhausted and overcome, he collapsed under the great elm tree in the town square.

  Early the next morning, something scurried across Steward’s chest, waking him. His head pounded as he stood to orient himself. He splashed water on his face in the fountain at the center of the square, and then he ambled in the direction of Abner’s house.

  How good it would be to be back with those dear people.

  The pain of the previous night returned to haunt him as he walked. He felt for the Reflector in his satchel—which image would he see?—but he was too exhausted, his emotions too worn, to look.

  After two hours of walking, Steward arrived at Abner’s house. He stopped in the driveway. Something was wrong. He could sense it. There were no sounds from the blacksmith shop. As he approached the front door of the house, Abner met him. His face was stern and his eyes red.

  “Is Claire with you? Have you seen her?” Abner’s voice echoed his anxiety.

  Claire! What’s happened?

  “No, I haven’t seen her since we left yesterday.”

  Steward entered the house. Inside, he saw Edith crying in Trek’s arms. Troy stood by, an empty look on his face.

  Steward knelt at her side. “What’s wrong? Where is Claire?”

  “We don’t know. No one has seen her since you left for the Light District. And where have you been? We hoped she was with you.”

  “I’m sorry. I tried to get word to you. I fell asleep under the great elm in the town square. Have you looked in the meadow or up at the hillcrest? She loves it there—”

  “Of course we have,” Troy snapped. “We’ve looked everywhere!”

  Abner picked up a brown envelope and handed it to Steward. “When we found this, we thought maybe she had run away and you would know where to find her.”

  The envelope had his name written across the front. Steward opened it and unfolded the letter inside. It was written in Claire’s graceful handwriting. Steward read it silently to himself, his lips mouthing the words. As he absorbed the final lines, he looked up, crumpled the letter in his clenched fist, and ran from the house.

  He ran with all his might past the berry fields and along a small path in the woods. “Claire! Claire!” He rounded the final corner that led to the pool. As it came into view, he stopped dead. His mouth gaped open and his heart broke.

  “Claire!”

  He plunged into the pool to retrieve the lifeless body floating face-down.

  As he pulled Claire’s body to shore, Trek and Troy arrived, and both stood frozen on the bank. Steward turned Claire’s face toward him as he sat on the ground at the edge of the pool. He held her tight to his chest and sobbed. Abner arrived a moment later and sank to his knees, and the cry he let loose was that of a father’s despair. He then rose and caught Edith in his arms as she arrived. Together, they came to Steward and took their daughter into their arms, losing themselves in their grief.

  Steward rose and stumbled away from the scene. He walked down the path, tears streaming down his cheeks. Then he started to run. He ran past the Abner’s Blacksmith Shop and back into the woods from which he had emerged a fortnight ago. He found the place where his path continued past Marikonia, and he fell to the ground and sobbed.

  He collected himself and found the courage to open the envelope again. He smoothed out the letter and read it one more time.

  Dear Steward,

  I have been thinking a lot about your words to me and the image I saw in the pool. I want to believe that I am as beautiful as the face I saw when you were with me. However, everywhere else I look tells me I am wrong. I see only homeliness and plainness in the Reflectors of my family, my friends, and in my own Reflector. Surely, they are right. But the image I saw in the pool haunts me. And so I will return today to look into it once again. If I see only beauty, I know that I do not wish to live, knowing that I can never be who I see and believe that I am. Therefore, I will choose to have the image in the pool be the last image I see of myself, rather than live the remainder of my life with the image I see from others. And so, dear Steward, your gift to me is a peaceful death, and for that I am forever grateful.

  Claire

  “Why, Claire? Why didn’t you wait? Why didn’t you let us talk about this? Why…” Steward let the paper drop from his hands, and as he did so he also let go of his journey.

  He was through.

  All he could think of was finding his way back to Aiden Glenn.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Alex laid the book down. He looked at Anna. She sat silent in the great stuffed chair, seeming lost in her thoughts.

  How would she get through this? How would any of them?

  Alex walked over and sat next to her, slipping his arm around her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded and wiped away some tears. “Mom always told me that she prayed I would someday see myself as she saw me. I wish I could have seen that image while she was still alive.”

  Merideth came and knelt beside her. “I think the message here is to be sure you see it now, while there is still time.”

  Merideth? Compassionate? Where did that come from?

  Anna managed a smile.

  Alex pressed in. “I wonder what exactly we are supposed to see? More than we should? Distorted images that deceive us into thinking we are better than we are? I understand Steward’s confusion. Who knows what image is the right one?”

  Reed rubbed his hands as he spoke. “I know for a long time I refused to let anyone shape my own self-image.”

  Alex looked at his brother and raised an eyebrow.

  Really, brother?

  Reed shrugged. “Okay, at least I thought I did. Now as I get older, I am realizing how hard that is. We’re so influenced by what others think of us. It’s almost impossible to be true to ourselves.”

  Merideth had disappeared for a moment and came back in the room with some Kleenex for Anna. “Maybe the message here is to find a reliable source for the image we see. Find a Reflector that tells the truth, if there is such a thing.”

  “Thanks, Mer.” Anna took the tissue and wiped her cheeks. “And if there is such a reliable source, perhaps Steward will find it for us.”

  Alex looked back at Walter. “What do you think, Walter? What did Dad have in mind with these Reflectors?”

  Walter stood and came into the center of the room to join them. “To be honest, I never read the chapter on Marikonia. Sam never showed it to me. He always re
ferred to it as still in process.”

  Alex turned to face him. “That’s curious. Why don’t you think he let you see it?”

  Walter smiled. “I think I know exactly why. For years I struggled with self-doubt and a poor self-image. Here I was with a lucrative law practice and all the outward appearances of success. It was a facade, mostly. I was hiding so much self-doubt. I learned the hard way that outward success doesn’t equal inner peace. In your father’s terms, I never liked the person I saw in my Reflector every morning. Sam and I had talked and prayed about it for years. And now…”

  He paused and pursed his lips.

  Anna walked to him and gave him a hug. “It’s okay, Walter. Looks like we’re all in this together.”

  He managed a smile. “It appears my dear friend has left me plenty to think about in this book that was supposed to be for his children.”

  Alex glanced at Merideth. Were those tears? He put a hand on her arm. “I’m not in much better shape, Reed. Can you take this one for us?”

  Merideth nodded her appreciation, and Reed moved over in front of the book that now lay more than half-open on the coffee table.

  Everyone shifted around to find a comfortable position for the final chapter of the night.

  chapter

  Fourteen

  “Steward.”

  He turned at the distant, unfamiliar voice that called his name. “Who’s there? Phaedra? Abner? Zedekai?”

  Nothing.

  Steward trudged on. For hours he’d plodded down the road leading back to Aiden Glenn. Words of doubt echoed in his mind. It was as if a Phaedra were whispering right in his ear.

  “You have done your best. It is no shame in going home. The king asked too much of you, of anyone. Look at all you have given up for this journey. You deserved better. Go home, Steward, and forget about this journey.”

  Happy to oblige.