He crossed his arms over his chest. “How about éibhleann? It means radiant beauty. Not that you can ever boast beauty like that, mortal creature that you are!” he quickly added.
Her eyes narrowed to slits. Setting her jaw, she stepped over to the poet and took hold of him by the scruff of the neck. The moment she did so, she held an enormous growling tomcat, which she carried to the vine. She stuck his nose up to the flower.
The cat twisted out of her hands and landed on sandaled feet, once more a man. He shook himself and gave her such a look as would have curdled milk. “Yes! Fine, lovely flowers those! I agree! We call them imralderi, the starflowers.”
She nodded again, pointing.
The poet scowled at her. “Is that your name?”
Nod.
“You’re sure of that?”
Nod, nod.
Suddenly his face was all smiles again. “Ah! What a fine and pretty name it is! And so unusual for a mortal girl. I would not have thought anyone in the Near World knew the Faerie tongue.” He snatched up one of her hands and, raising her fingers to his lips, saluted her ceremoniously. “I am ever so pleased to make your acquaintance, Princess Imraldera of the mortal realm.”
She drew back her hand. “I am no princess,” she signed, “and that is not my name!” Once more she indicated the little flower.
“Indeed,” said the poet, still smiling. “You are named for the flower, yes?”
“Yes!” she signed.
“The little starflower?”
She nodded and smiled as though to a simple child. “Yes, yes!”
“Princess Imraldera, then. Lovely name! Not one I’ve heard more than a handful of times, and never among my own people. Well, Imraldera, it’s nice to be on such friendly terms, isn’t it?”
She flung up both hands, then rubbed them down her face. But the poet’s mind was settled on the matter. He had named her Imraldera, and Imraldera she must be.
“Well, now that’s decided,” said the poet, adjusting his cap and cloak, “we really must be off. Glomar has such a start on me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already found the gates to Etalpalli! This whole ‘helping the helpless’ business really is for the dogs. You can’t begin to understand how drastically you’ve slowed me down, Imraldera, and every moment is precious! If Glomar rescues the fair Gleamdren before I’ve so much as set eyes upon the Cozamaloti Falls, well, it’s all up for me! I will have to abandon my pursuit of the true love of my heart, and with it abandon all dreams of poetic greatness! You see what a tragedy that would be, don’t you?”
And he started off through the Wood, following a brightly lit Path, singing as he went:
“Oh, woe is me, I am undone,
In sweet affliction lying!
For my labor’s scarce begun,
And leaves me sorely sighing
After that maiden I adore,
Who something, something, something more . . .”
He called back over his shoulder, “Thus does the poet’s work progress! Do, please, withhold all judgment until further notice.”
Newly christened Imraldera stared after him. Then with a sigh, she picked up her feet and made them follow her noisy guide. For now, she would let her path wander with the poet’s. But soon, she would have to part ways with him. She would have to plunge alone once more into the threatening Wood.
Etalpalli shuddered.
The towers had stood vacant for a hundred years. The streets were crumbled, melted from that old fire. Like a sad and lonely graveyard, the city had stood undisturbed in the ruins of its once fair demesne.
So when a stranger fell through its gates and landed hard upon the stones, the city trembled to its core. And somewhere, deep within that tangle of streets, two Dogs started baying.
Hri Sora, returned to the summit of Omeztli Tower, gazed with far-seeing eyes across the many spires to the edge of her city and saw the intruder. The fall had been, apparently, much greater than he had expected. She smiled. Her little deceptions could still govern the borders of her realm, ruined though it may be. The man had landed on the stone and fallen, his face twisted in pain. She watched him reach down to one ankle, which was already showing signs of swelling. Yes, that fall had taken him by surprise. Cozamaloti was not to be underestimated!
“What are you staring at?” The petulant voice of her prisoner rang through the otherwise silent air. “I don’t recall ever seeing you so alert. You look almost conscious!”
“We have a visitor,” Hri Sora responded without looking around.
“A likely story,” said Gleamdren with a sniff. “Who would come calling on . . . wait a moment. My suitors! They’ve arrived!”
“Suitors? No.” Hri Sora smiled as she watched the poor captain struggling to get to his feet. “Only one.”