LITMIR.BIZ

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noises. First it spread darkness, then a glow. All the sentries and archers on the towers had long since been replaced by morgens, so no one raised a panic. The silver dragon was approaching the castle. The shadow of its huge wings covered the towers.

      “My chief scout has arrived. Would you like to meet her?”

      Moran’s courteous offer came like a slap in the face.

      “It is no way!” Desdemona exclaimed.

      Who would want to get acquainted with a rival?

      Moran only shrugged his shoulders and hurried to meet her. His purple robe slid like liquid fire down the stairs leading to the roof of the tower.

      Desdemona was left alone with the mirror, which stubbornly refused to show her the rendezvous between the king and the dragoness.

      Maybe she had jumped to conclusions. Moran seemed to call the guest a scout, not a friend. But why would he need a scout who flies over the sea, when he himself can get all the information about the enemies without leaving the castle? It is enough to give an order to the mirror-observer, and it will show everything.

      What really connects the waterman and the dragon lady? From above came suspicious and wild sounds, then something like the singing of a siren. Desdemona never dared to go up and peep. She had already burned herself on the sea chess. She didn’t want to be burned by the dragon’s breath.

      The Wooden Queen

      “The wooden queen of Aquilania was lost in the stormy waves, it was the turn of the living queen!”

      Whoever said that reminded Desdemona of the ship with her dead brothers. That ship, after all, was called the “Queen of Aquilania.” That’s symbolic, considering that it was the current queen who was originally meant to be sacrificed to the sea. Presumably, by taking the ship, the sea would calm down.

      Desdemona had the feeling that someone had threatened her from the darkness with a clawed finger. Could the mirror be speaking to her? It was now showing a half-empty ship and a blonde mermaid who was flirting brazenly with the captain.

      “This is Yasmin, the eldest of the sea king’s daughters,” explained Moran, who had returned. His date with the dragon lady had ended very quickly.

      “Is it your sister? I did not wish to see her.”

      “I wished to see her. I thought she’d come around a little since we broke up. But I see she’s gone wild.”

      “She will drag that captain down,” Desdemona guessed.

      Moran sighed.

      “What else do you expect from a mermaid?”

      “It is love for a handsome mortal boy.”

      “Yasmin often falls in love with mortals, but it ends badly for them. The sea princess already has a collection of skeletons of her suitors.”

      “And I thought that if someone brave went down to the sea kingdom and asked the crowned father for her hand, everything would be solved like magic.”

      “That’s not likely! The sea king is least desirous of his daughters’ marriage. The thing is, each of them has a special talent that will come in handy to…”

      “Is it to sweep away the entire earthly world?” Desdemona said the first thing that came to her mind, for Morgens do not tolerate humans.

      Moran was silent.

      The flapping of powerful wings somewhere above heralded the dragon’s departure from the castle.

      “Sephora reports that we should expect an unusual ambassador.”

      “From the depths of the sea, I believe. And how is he unusual?”

      “He will be sent to test how well I can handle Aquilania on my own. If the ambassador is convinced I’m not a good autocrat, they’ll send us imposed help from the sea. This is a test. We cannot fail it.”

      “And what can I do to help?”

      “You can expose the naval ambassador. He won’t look like a waterman.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Look at the Copycat,” Moran snapped his fingers, and a creature that looked like a huge white spider slid off the frame of the trundle. It straightened up to its full height and suddenly became the first minister Ramiro.”

      Desdemona gasped.

      “I didn’t know his grace was also a morgen.”

      “Ramiro is not a morgen,” Moran objected. “Show her the other changes of guise!”

      And now in front of Desdemona already was the same handsome Lancier, about whom Vaira chirped endlessly. He smiled impudently at her and showed his fingers with webbing. It was immediately clear that this was not Lancier. In a fraction of a minute, the creature called Copycat took on a succession of guises, from royal advisors to lackeys. Toward the end, it took the form of all the brothers in turn, and even Desdemona’s father.

      “That’s it! Enough!” She demanded.

      The creature crawled nimbly back behind the frame of the drawer, and from there climbed up the wall. It looked like a fancy ivory ornament.

      “It can turn into women, too,” Moran boasted.

      As if to confirm his words, the Imitator sat down at the top of the arch and suddenly turned into Desdemona herself, exactly copying her figure, hair and dress.

      “It would frighten everyone to death if it repeated the trick in public,” Desdemona turned away from the double.

      “But you can drive your enemies crazy that way. Imagine if no one warned you about the Copycat, but you see your copy mimicking you everywhere.”

      “And you’re afraid the naval ambassador will come to you in my guise? You can’t tell me from a Morgen unless I give you a sign.”

      Moran shrugged.

      “It’s best if we both know about the visitor and look him out. If you denounce him, don’t hesitate to tell him you’ve figured out his secret. Father will be pleased to know that my queen is not a simpleton. Then he won’t impose his rules or his help on us.”

      “And what if we need his help one day?” Desdemona thought of the sunken temple. Would a sea king be able to take control of that place?

      “I’m used to handling everything myself,” Moran disappointed her.

      “Why should you cherish your independence when somewhere at the bottom of the sea there is a powerful father who can sink the whole world for you?”

      “I’ll explain later,” Moran was withdrawn.

      He led Desdemona out into the garden and to an arbor, which was braided by a blue sea tree with a scaly trunk. Moran plucked one fruit from it.

      “Would you like a taste?”

      “It is to lose your mind or your memory?”

      “It is to learn to hear the gossip that the waves carry to the shore.”

      Sounds tempting, but Desdemona didn’t dare.

      “Some other time,” she promised. The tree moving its living roots beneath the gazebo frightened her a little. Besides, she still didn’t know how much she could trust Moran. He was courteous to her. It was easy to fall in love with him, but it was a little scary to trust a morgen.

      The basilica behind the garden with its doors ajar clearly displayed sculptures of gods that looked like they came from the sea. Desdemona gazed at them mesmerized. The marble figures were beautiful and frightening. She had seen something like them before in the cathedrals of the city. The goddesses had tails instead of legs or shells in place of ears, the gods had gills and scales.

      “These

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