The Mask Wearer (10 page)

Hearing these last words, Beorf began to cry.

“You see,
ssss
, we’re alike,” the naga went on. “We’re both victims of humans and we must join forces,
ssss
, against this powerful enemy. Can you imagine,
ssss
, the bear and the snake united in the humanimals’ revenge! Side with me and I will be your new,
ssss
, father.”

Having regained some assurance, Beorf looked Karmakas straight in the eyes. “It’s true that my parents were killed by humans,” he said. “It’s also true that humans are sometimes stupid and refuse to accept the things they don’t understand. But my father told me many tales about humanimals, and he always said to be wary of snake-men. He claimed that it was because of them, because of their lies and thirst for power, that humans started to persecute humanimals. I had a father and he’s dead now. I need no one else to take his place. All you want is to pacify me and gain my trust to get your pendant back. Beorites may not be as intelligent as nagas, but we know
to distinguish between good and evil. The pendant is hidden and you’ll never get your hands on it!”

The magician clenched his teeth and tightened his muscles. “I’ll find a way,
ssss
, to make you talk, you insolent bear.” He rose on his huge tail and shouted, “You just signed,
ssss
, your death sentence!”

A
n old man was seated on a bench.

“Once upon a time, long ago,” he started to tell the children who surrounded him, “there was a young boy named Junos. He lived with his mother in a small cabin in the forest. This boy didn’t have the slightest talent for anything. He was a little soft in the head, and his mother didn’t know what to do with him. His father had died many years before, and the poor woman had to take care of everything. From the cooking to the washing to working in the fields, she did all she could to ensure her survival and that of her good-for-nothing son. Junos spent his days smelling the flowers, strolling in the fields, and chasing butterflies. One day, as he watched his mother hard at work, he told her, ‘Mother, I’m going to town to find a job. With the money I earn, you’ll be able to rest.’ His mother answered him, ‘But, Junos, you’re hopeless with your ten fingers, and you always do stupid
things.’ The boy told her, ‘Just wait and see. I’ll show you what I can do, Mother.’ ”

The storyteller had the children’s rapt attention. Amos, who was passing by, stopped to hear the end of the story.

“Junos left for the city. He stopped at every farmhouse and at every craftsperson’s shop along the way. He asked everyone for work, but each time someone asked him what he was capable of doing, Junos answered honestly, ‘I can do nothing.’ Of course, upon hearing this, nobody wanted to hire him! At the last farmhouse where he inquired about a job, Junos thought of his mother and how she often reproached him for doing any old thing. When the farmer asked him what he could do, Junos told the truth: ‘Sir, I can do any old thing!’ He was hired on the spot.”

In the small town square, the old man had attracted more and more curious listeners. Several grown-ups were waiting with interest for the end of the tale.

“The whole day, Junos and the farmer spent their time splitting wood and weeding the vegetable garden. In the evening, as a reward for his labor, Junos was given a nice coin. On his way back home, happy with his first day’s work, Junos played at tossing the coin in the air and catching it on the fly. A clumsy throw made the coin fall into the stream that ran along the path. Saddened, Junos went home and told his mother of his bad luck.

“She told him, ‘Next time, Junos, take what the farmer gives you and put it immediately in your pocket. That way, you won’t lose the reward you earned for your work.’

“Junos promised to do what his mother suggested, and the
next day, he went back to the farmhouse. This time he took care of the cows. To thank him for his work, the farmer gave him a bucketful of fresh milk.

“Junos did exactly what his mother had told him to do. He emptied the content of the bucket into his pocket to be sure not to lose it. He was drenched when he reached home. He even had milk in his shoes.

“His mother contained her anger as she listened to his story and told him, ‘You must always keep what the farmer gives you in its container, do you understand this, my boy?’

“Junos agreed and the next day, after his day’s work, he received a slab of butter. So that the butter would not melt in the sun, the farmer asked Junos for his hat and put the butter inside for protection. The boy put the hat on his head and ran home as fast as he could. The heat of his head melted the butter and it dripped down his hair and face in a yellow mess.”

The old storyteller now had a large crowd around him. Everyone seemed to enjoy listening to the tale of this stupid boy. The storyteller was entertaining: he acted out each of the characters and mimicked their expressions. His listeners were enthralled.

“When Junos finished his explanation about the butter, his mother told him, ‘You were right to leave the butter in your hat, but you should not have put the hat back on your head! Now take this bag, where you’ll put what the farmer gives you. You will carry it on your way home. Do you understand, Junos?’ The boy answered that he understood.

“Near the farm where he worked, there was a lovely castle. Junos admired it each time he passed by, and he dreamed of
making enough money to be able to live there one day. He also noticed that a young girl always stood on one of the castle’s magnificent balconies and that she cried all the time. Junos wondered what made her so sad but he didn’t concern himself over it.

“At the end of the next day, the farmer gave him a donkey. Having no need for Junos’s services any longer, the farmer gave him this generous gift to thank him for all the work he had done for him. The boy accepted the animal with joy. As recommended by his mother, he tried to put the farmer’s gift in the bag, first one of the donkey’s front legs, then the other. But he soon realized that the bag was much too small to fit the whole animal in.

“Junos thought of a solution: he put the bag over the donkey’s head, squatted, and slipped under the animal. He was going to carry it on his back. He wanted his mother to be proud of him, and for once he was going to do things right. With the bag over his head, the donkey started to struggle and bray. Junos stretched his body up with difficulty, and when he finally managed to lift the animal off the ground, they soon toppled into the dust.

“As Junos tried for a second time to put the animal over his back, he saw a man approach him. It was the king who lived in the nearby castle. He greeted Junos, introduced himself courteously, and confided that his daughter had been crying for years. He had promised her hand to whoever could make her smile. From her balcony, the princess had observed Junos and the donkey. Seeing him struggle with the beast had started her laughing, and now she couldn’t stop. And so Junos
married the princess, became king, and lived in the castle with his mother. Dear friends, therein lies the proof that to become king, the only requirement is the ability to do nothing or to do any old thing!”

Greeted by thunderous applause, the storyteller saluted his audience and went around with his hat. He received a few coins, and the people who were coming from the market gave him some bread, vegetables, and eggs. He was even handed a sausage. Amos was about to leave when the storyteller called after him.

“You listened to my story, young man, yet you don’t give me anything?”

“I regret that I don’t have much myself, sir,” Amos answered. “I am looking for my parents and I’ve come from far away. Your story deserves more than my applause, but unfortunately that’s all I can offer you.”

The old man nodded. “I already have all I need in this hat. The truth is that what I want is company. Would you do me the honor of sharing these provisions with me?”

“With pleasure!” Amos answered. He was starving.

“My name is Junos,” said the storyteller, “and you, young man, what is your name?”

Surprised, Amos said, “Is Junos your real name? Like the character in your story?”

“My friend, I take inspiration where I can find it. All my characters, stupid or intelligent, bear my name. This reminds me of the time when my father used to tell me stories. All the heroes of his tales had my name too.”

“My name is Amos Daragon and I’m pleased to meet you,” Amos said.

“Same here,” the old man said. “As you can see, I tell stories for a living, that’s all I’m able to do. And I’m always looking for good tales. Tell me where you’ve come from and what you’re doing here. Tell me how you lost your parents too. I’m interested because I lost mine many years ago.”

Amos felt that he could trust Junos. There was something youthful and sparkling in the old man’s eyes. Except for the old lady in white he had met at the fountain in the neighboring village, Amos had not spoken to anyone in several days. He was happy to find such a likeable person to talk to.

Before he began his story, Amos told the old man that he might not believe everything he was going to hear, yet he swore that it was the pure truth. While savoring the good food that his host offered him, Amos talked about the realm of Omain, about his conversation with the mermaid at the bay of caverns and the task she had entrusted him with. Amos also told him how he had duped Lord Edonf. The young traveler related the events of Bratel-la-Grande and mentioned Barthelemy, now a stone statue like everybody else. Then he described his encounter with Beorf, Yaune the Purifier’s game of truth, the blind cat, the druid who had a mushroom growing from his neck, the gorgons, and the book that he had found in Beorf’s father’s secret library. He told the story of the pendant that he had left with Beorf so that it would not fall into the hands of the gorgons, then he related his departure from Bratel-la-Grande. He expressed his regret at having left
his friend behind. He also mentioned what he had learned about the dreadful basilisk.

Amos told Junos everything. But all of it seemed strangely far away now, as if it had happened years ago. By the time he ended his story, night was falling. He and Junos had been talking for more than three hours. Puzzled by this incredible tale, the old man had asked many questions, wanting details about this and that.

“It is a very nice story and I believe every word,” Junos said when Amos finished. “Now I’m going to tell you one about the woods of Tarkasis. I hope that you will believe me too. I stopped telling this story several years ago, because everyone thought I was mad. So I decided to conceal the truth and just tell these little made-up stories that children like and that make grown-ups smile. Do you want to hear the story of a great misfortune?”

Happy to be with such an interesting person, Amos was more than willing. “I’m listening, and be assured that I’m ready to believe what you tell me,” Amos said.

“Many long years ago,” began the old man, “near the woods of Tarkasis, there lived a little boy. He had beautiful dark, curly hair, the big smile of a happy child, an overflowing imagination, and a magnificent dog. He loved this dog more than anything else. His father was a farmer and his mother made the best pancakes in the realm. His parents always told him not to go to the woods. Apparently, there were malevolent forces that made those who dared to venture there disappear. One day the boy’s dog was lost, and the boy heard it bark in
the forest. He thought that it was in danger and so he entered the forest without taking his parents’ warning into account. He walked for a long time. The trees had strange shapes. There were flowers everywhere. It was the most beautiful forest he had ever seen.

“Out of nowhere, a light came out of a flower and started to spin around him. Only many years later did the young boy understand that he had entered the realm of fairies. More lights came to join the first one, and marvelous music started. Imprisoned in a circle of fairies, the child danced and danced and danced with the lights until he dropped to the ground. He fell into a deep sleep under a tree.

“When he woke up, he was fifty years older. His hair had turned white and he had a long beard. He made his way home but the house was no longer here. There was a road now where his father’s large garden used to be. His parents, his dog, his house had disappeared.

“He walked on the road and reached a town named Berrion. It’s the town we’re in today. Totally helpless, he told his story to passersby, claiming that his childhood had been stolen from him. No one wanted to listen to him, and for a long time people thought that he was crazy. Finally, and with difficulty, he accepted his old age and began to tell stories to make a living. This child is still alive and is called Junos, like all the characters of my tales. It is Junos who is talking to you now. It’s my own story that I just told you. Could you be the first person to believe me at last?”

Flabbergasted, Amos remembered having heard this story
before. It was the one his father had told him when they were leaving the realm of Omain. Urban claimed to have met this man years ago during his travels with Frilla.