The Fecund's Melancholy Daughter - Brent Hayward [68]
“Is this true?”
“True? What does true mean? Now stop interrupting me. Where was I? Ah, yes: bodies rained down on the farms beyond the gates, and all the rumours that had been circulating in the township about missing girls became very real.
“Jesthe was soon stormed.
“Me? I ran and hid. Of course, no bodies were ever found inside because they had been, well, disposed of, but the courtyard gardens—which opened behind the regal bedchambers—were discovered to be the site of intense flowerings. The soil was richer and blacker than any other garden for miles around.” The monster smiled, perhaps at the memory of such vanished luxury. “And from the royal pond, which encircled the glorious bursts of roses and persimmons and dandelion, there came an odour most peculiar.
“Jesthe was torched.
“The couple, found huddled together in a false chamber in their own bedroom, were dragged from their hiding place and dismembered by a gaggle of distraught parents.”
“Are you telling me how kholics began?”
“Will you please keep silent? Have respect for the storyteller.”
“But—”
“Shh! From my hiding spot, I went nearly delirious with emanations and emotions. One good thing had come to an end, yet I could not get over what a fabulously insane race you were! I never could have imagined such goings-on. Remaining hidden, trying not to burst out with excitement and awe, was very difficult for me.
“Jesthe, of course, is primarily stone, and did not catch fire.
“The water of the pond, however—where I had set up temporary quarters—nearly boiled me alive!
“After all this activity, crowds departed. Several of your years went by. I must have fallen asleep. Jesthe was repaired and returned to the three children, who promised never to do anything as wicked as their parents had done. The kids were, by this time, almost adults—and almost as scrambled in the head as their parents had been. Why were they given back the seat of power here at the palace? A good question. The masses are idiotic, unable to do anything without being told. But that’s another story.
“These new leaders asked servants to identify themselves by dressing in red, for blood, and they implemented the testing of all babies, so that bad-tasting ones could be avoided when it was bath time.”
“This is ridiculous. I don’t believe a word of it. Now you’re telling me about the palatinate?”
“Melancholy killed the parents. There’s a direct relation. The girls that had poison in their veins were the ones tossed over the ramparts. Their children, the heirs, were acting out of loyalty. It all fits together.”
Octavia turned away.
“Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“If you had parents, you might understand.
“After the incident, more and more houses were built. A perimeter wall was completed. In honour of your great new city, forests were razed, waters polluted. You bred indiscriminately, as you often do. Proliferated like mad, without thought.
“When I finally awoke, I was famished. I snacked on a dead duck and the few expired frogs that came my way. Then, once—oh lucky day (or so I thought)—I swallowed the delicious body of a child who had strayed too close to the pond and had drowned. A boy, I think it was. Rather bony, if I recall. Dressed in shorts. I kid you not. But say what I will about humans, you people are fond of your young, aren’t you? Just like me. And you are quick to accuse. I tried to explain that the child was already dead and puffy but no one listened. I tried to explain that the fecund does not end lives, nor can she, but that she converts, or gives, life.” The last rat skull, lobbed in Octavia’s