Free The Storyteller's Daughter by Cameron Dokey Page B

desired for so long.

    “But this marriage proved more disastrous than the first. For, while the king’s first wife had at least given him daughters, his second wife gave him no children at all. Finally the king decided to consult an oracle. Something in the stars was working against him. This much now seemed certain. He needed to discover what it was and what sort of sacrifice might be required of him. Not a very great one, he hoped. So he kissed his wife the queen and set off.
    “For many days the king traveled, making his journey to the oracle on foot, for so it had always been done. For all in this country knew that those who see what no one else can care nothing for the trappings that make others so proud. And so the king took no servants or retainers; he wore no fine clothes but only simple pilgrims garments. After several days of traveling by both day and night, he reached the foot of a great mountain. Its top was shrouded in clouds. None could remember when it had last been seen. But there, all knew, stood the oracle and the seer who could read the stars.
    “Now, at the foot of this hill ran a stream so clear you could see every stone in the streambed. Its water was as pure as starlight itself, and so cold that people did not drink there to slake their thirst for fear the water would freeze their throats closed. For many hours the king walked alongside this stream, searching for the place where he might cross it and find a way up the mountain. Just as the sun began to sink in the sky, he realized he had walked the entire way around the mountain’s foot and arrived at the place where he had started. And still he had not found the way across the stream and up the mountain.
    “Discouraged, the king sat by the streamside to rest himself while he considered what to do next. Try as he might, he could reach no other conclusion than that he would have to brave the icy water in order to reach the oracle.
    “No sooner had he reached this conclusion than the king heard a rustle and a stomp behind him.  Leaping to his feet, he spun around and beheld a woman so old she was bent over nearly double. Her features were folded in upon themselves like a piece of fruit left too long in the sun. A milky-blue film covered the surface of her eyes. The king found the sight of her revolting. He was not accustomed to such ugliness.
    “His first thought was to drive the old woman away. But at the last moment, the king remembered that he stood at the foot of the oracle. If ever he should be on his best behavior, this was the place. So he resisted his first impulse and spoke to the old woman kindly.
    ‘“What do you here, Mother? he asked. ‘Do you come to consult the oracle?
    ‘“My business is my own and none of yours,’ the old woman replied in a voice as dry and scratchy as a sandstorm.
    “The king felt a spurt of anger at her words, for no one had spoken so to him in a very long time, if they ever had at all. Yet he mastered himself a second time, for now he remembered something else: It was said all were equal in the eyes of the oracle.
    ‘“Though you will not reveal it, I will aid you in your business if I can,’ he promised.
    “‘Excellent,’ the old woman replied at once.  ‘Then take me upon your back, and carry me across the water.’
    “When the king heard this, he was greatly dismayed. For though he had been growing accustomed to the way the old woman looked, that was hardly the same thing as being willing to touch her. Still, he knelt and took her upon his back as she had demanded, for he could see no other option. Then, binding up his robes so that they at least might stay dry, the king waded out into the water.
    “It was cold. So cold it sucked the breath from his lungs and made spots dance before his eyes. A cold that made his legs burn like fire. The stones of the streambed were slick as glass beneath his feet. At any moment, the king feared that he might slip, tumble all the way into the swift-moving