Mockingbird's Song
Elan wiped sweat from his brow. How unfortunate, he thought, that this last leg of his journey had to be facing the setting sun. It warmed his clothes and made him perspire all over, causing his tunic to grow sticky and uncomfortable against his large belly, and a few beads of sweat even rolled into his curly, bushy beard. The blaze of the sun’s rays was so distracting and discomforting that he almost didn’t see her.
As he drew closer, though, he couldn’t help but notice. Right on the side of the road, a beautiful damsel sat wearing an ornately frilly and poofy pink dress. With her golden flowing hair and her ample curves, Elan assumed she must be a lady in waiting, and quickly slowed his cart to a halt.
“Need a ride, my lady,” Elan spoke with a moderate brogue, tipping his hat and exposing his nearly bald head.
“Why yes, if by chance you’re headed to the castle,” she said, her voice soft and delicate beyond measure.
“I am, though I’d take you there even if I was headed in the opposite direction,” Elan said as he helped lift her into the cart. As soon as she took a seat, the sharp song of a bird rang out, and then another slightly different song. Each song was followed by a different tune, until nearly a dozen different tunes had been offered.
“I’ve never heard so many different birds sing in sequence like that,” Elan said incredulously.
“It was a lone mockingbird,” she said. “It sings the songs of other birds.”
“Hmm. But what does its own song sound like?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” the young lady replied after several moments of thoughtful hesitation.
With a shake of the reins, they were off.
“And what is your name, good sir?” the young woman inquired.
“Elan, son of Mikas,” he said. “Yourself?”
“I’m assuming you are a merchant,” she said, ignoring his question. “What kind, and who is expecting your arrival?”
Elan paused for a moment, but then answered. “That’s the King’s business.”
“Do I look like someone who can’t keep a secret?” she replied, batting her eyelashes.
“All right,” Elan conceded as he blushed. “I’m carrying supplies, for the royal doctor,” he said. “Nobody else is expecting me,” he added.
The young lady’s eyes grew wide, and then her brow furrowed, as if she was suddenly thinking very intently.
“And does anyone else at the castle know your face?” she said, her voice sharp and matter of fact. The delicate tone from before had vanished.
“No,” he replied, nervously gnawing at his lip. “I’m going to deliver the supplies, be paid, and be off,” Elan finished defensively. “But please, my lady, I must know who you are.”
“I can’t say,” she said.
“Perhaps you can, but you don’t want to,” he replied with a loud guffaw. “Come on, I insist.”
“You can insist all you like, but I can’t tell you because I don’t know myself,” she said.
“What happened? Bump on the head?” he asked. “You must remember something.”
“I remember a great deal,” she said. “How long until we reach the castle?”
“At least an hour,” the merchant replied.
“Alright,” she said after a long sight. “If you’d like, I’ll tell you my story.”
“Yes, please do,” Elan said.
“When I was six, I saw my older brother Simon drown,” she said casually. “It was just me and my brother playing on the frozen river, the one place we were always warned not to go. Nobody knew he was dead except for me.”
Elan started to speak, but the young woman put her hand up to signal she wanted to finish the tale without interruption.
“When I returned home, my mother asked where Simon was. I couldn’t bear to break her heart, so I said I didn’t know. My mother and father were both sick with worry. They kept asking about where I had seen him, trying to organize search parties for days. They wanted to find him more than anything in the world, you see?” she said. Elan merely nodded.
“I don’t know how I did it, but as I was staring at a mirror in my room, I became Simon. I transformed into a dead ringer for my dead brother. Without any warning, my parents burst in. They embraced me and wept for joy. Their child was safe and sound.”
“For the first few weeks, I was treated like a king in that house. And what’s more, I felt so happy I had eased my parent’s worry,” she said. “I felt content to keep up the illusion forever. And as long as I concentrated, it never slipped. But one day, I realized something: the day my parents had found Simon alive and well, I had gone missing in my own house. Why didn’t my parents cry for my absence? Why didn’t they organize frenetic, endless search parties on my behalf?” she said, her voice becoming increasingly shrill.
Elan stared at his companion with a look of bewilderment on his face. He suddenly remembered why he didn’t usually pick up strangers on the side of the road.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? They didn’t love me, they loved Simon, their eldest child. I was nothing to them. They didn’t even mention my name. In fact, after a year had passed, I realized I had forgotten who I was. I asked my mother if I ever had a sibling, but she simply had a pained look in her eye and told me that I had always been an only child. The more time that passed, the less I remembered. Today, I don’t even know if I was once a little girl or a little boy.”
“I couldn’t stay with parents like that, now, could I?” she said, the volume of her voice escalating. “Why give them the gift of the son they loved, when they didn’t care about who I really was? So I studied the first non-family member I could: my nanny, Helga, brought on when my brother vanished beneath the ice. My parents cared more for looking for him than raising me, so they entrusted me to her care.”
“As Simon, I was too old for a nanny, but my parents were not going to let me wander around without supervision. Soon, I found I could take her form as well. When she was sleeping, I simply became her, walked right past my parents in the living room, and out the door. It was almost too easy.”
“And then what happened?” Elan asked, feeling dread in the pit of his stomach. Was she just a liar, was she crazy - perhaps even a witch? He knew that in any case, it wasn’t going to end well. He had a momentary idea of shoving her off of the wagon and whipping his horses like crazy to ride on, but he didn’t want to risk making her angry...
“Ever since, I’ve been wandering from place to place, trying to fit in, trying to win respect. But it’s never long before I’m treated like nothing again, and it’s time to move on. I haven’t had a real purpose in years. That is, until I met you,” she said. “I was hoping to meet someone important within the castle and use their power to my advantage, but you’ve accelerated events for me tremendously.”
“Me?” Elan asked. “What have I got to do with your...troubles?”
“Elan, you’re a lucky man. You’re the first person to whom I’ve told my story, and I gave you that privilege because you’ve given me a purpose. I’ve said for a long time that I’ve travelled around, changing forms, trying my best to win respect. And you said you have an appointment with the royal doctor.”
“What of it?” he said. “The man is wise indeed, but I doubt even he could help with your peculiar...malady,” he said, trying to put it delicately.
“You misunderstand, Elan. I don’t want his help. I want his life,” she said, her voice once again still.
“You say that like you’re ordering him up for breakfast,” Elan retorted.
“I plan on killing him,” she began, “and assuming his identity. The royal doctor is one of the very few people granted a private audience with the King. Once I have one, I’ll kill the King. And then I’ll assume his identity as well,” she said. “Being the King, just think of it! I’ll always have the respect and the attention I deserve.”
“And you think I’ll help you in this treacherous scheme?” Elan said, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling.
“Oh yes,” she replied. “You see, I need to meet with the doctor. And he’s expecting you, isn’t he?” she replied.
“I don’t think this cart is big enough for the two of us,” Elan said as he pulled the reins and brought the horses to a stop.
“My point exactly!” she said. With a single, swift motion, she pulled a dagger from her purse. Before Elan could react, she slashed at his throat and then pushed his body from the cart. She jumped off after him, making sure to roll his body over the side of the road and into a ditch, ensuring he wouldn’t be found immediately.
As she pulled herself back up into the cart, he clothes already looked different. Her pink, frilly dress was shifting into a black vest, and leather pants. Her tummy surged forward and her large breasts shrank, and her delicate face started to bristle with a growing beard. Her golden hair retreated into her scalp, until all of it was gone. Folds appeared on her previously smooth skin.
Within an hour, the cart arrived at the castle. “Who goes there?” the gate guard inquired.
“It is Elan, son of Mikas, merchant to see the royal doctor,” the man replied in a slight brogue.
The gate rose, and the cart went through.
~
“Tell me about King,” Elan asked, “I’m from an isolated and distant village, and I know nothing about politics.”
“It’s really fascinating,” replied the doctor, a young man with bright blue eyes. “While his father ruled, Prince Henry was quite the layabout. He’d binge at the taverns, get involved in petty vandalism, that sort of thing. But when his father died unexpectedly three years ago and the crown was thrust on his head, he turned it around. It’s like being made King made him a completely different person.”
“A serious fellow, then?” Elan asked, as he handed the goods over to the doctor.
“No, not at all. He’s quite charismatic, actually. But he means business. He’s always throwing parties for foreign dignitaries, trying to encourage alliances and trade agreements. And he’s trying to build up our armed reserves. He says he wants to restore our glory days, and I believe him,” the doctor replied, speaking quickly and with a high pitched voice.
“And what are these oils for, if you don't mind me asking?” Elan asked, eying the bottles.
“I’d risk betraying the King’s confidence if I told you, but in fact I haven’t the slightest clue myself. He requested I send for them, but they’re all quite poisonous,” the doctor replied, running his hands through his shock of frizzy, dark hair. “Maybe they’re for some type of experiment.”
“I’m sure he trusts you a great deal,” Elan said before removing his hat and using it to cover the doctor’s mouth. His other hand quickly thrust his blade into the doctor’s gullet.
Elan’s big belly withdrew, his broad shoulders narrowed, and his bald head regrew hair. Years of wrinkles melted away and the course clothes of a travelling merchant transmuted into the fine silks of a royal surgeon. He placed the body of the real doctor in the back of the cart, grabbed a bottle of oil, and darted inside.
“The King, I must see him!” the doctor shouted at the first guard.
“What’s going on?” the man asked.
“His life is in danger!” the doctor exclaimed. “He’s about to be poisoned!”
The guard quickly took him to the King, who was in the middle of the royal dining hall.
“Please tell me you haven’t had any of that food!” the doctor shouted at the King.
“Doctor Ewing, what are you ranting about?” the King replied nonchalantly.
“I need to see you in your quarters, privately. Your life may be in danger,” the physician replied. The King, a young man with a thick mustache, stared into the doctor’s eyes deeply, and then nodded.
“Very well. Continue without me, I’m sure this is nothing,” the King said to his other guests as he walked towards the far hallway. Doctor Ewing followed, muttering about how urgent the situation was.
The King finally turned into one of the rooms, which contained a large, frilly pink bed and a large vanity on the far side of the room.
“Very well, doctor, care to tell me what’s going on?” the King replied.
“I believe you’re in great danger. I’ve been informed that the food served at your table today may be have been poisoned!” he cried out.
“I feel fine,” the King deflected, his voice calm as ice.
“Your highness, it is a fast slow acting poison, but irreversible unless caught in time,” he replied.
“And I presume that’s the antidote under your arm?” said the King, eying the bottle.
“Yes. Please, take a swig of this without any further delay,” Doctor Ewing begged. “I don’t know what the Kingdom would do without you.”
The King accepted the bottle, uncorked it, and smelled it judiciously. With a flick of his wrist, he jostled the bottle in the doctor’s direction, causing the oil to splash onto his face.
“Argh!” the doctor screamed, falling to the floor and clutching his burning skin.
“Guards, guards!” the King called out. They were at the door in seconds. “Throw this shapeshifter assassin in the dungeon,” he commanded. The doctor was rolling on the floor in agony. His clothes were roiling and his skin was changing rapidly. Half his face wore a beard, while the other was clean shaven. His eyes were different colors, and there was a single shoot of long, blonde hair jutting from his forehead. The guards hauled him away without any further incident.
~
For three days, the prisoner languished in the dungeons without any visitation of any kind. No food, no water, no interrogators, no fellow prisoners anywhere near his cell. For three days, the only contact he had with fellow life forms were the birds chirping in the morning, their calls barely audible from his far off cell window.
Finally, a visitor did arrive: the King himself.
“I know, I know,” the King began. “You’re parched. I’ve brought water for you,” he said as he produced a bucket of it, which the prisoner consumed eagerly. “Your throat is dry, don’t bother to speak. I know what you want to ask me. How did I know?”
The prisoner’s only reply was to nod.
“Here’s a story: I suspected an assassin would try to kill me. My father died mysteriously, and I suspect foul play was involved. Why wouldn’t I be next?” the King said, pacing back and forth. “Doctor Ewing’s trust was beyond question, but i had to be sure, didn’t I? Of course, the real Doctor Ewing would have to know that my quarters didn’t contain a pink bed and a vanity. That room is for my wife, whose bed I haven’t shared in three years. The real Doctor Ewing would never assume I was unfamiliar with the shape of the bottle of poison. I saw you a mile away, and you conveniently handed me the weapon with which to dispose of you. You made it too easy for me,” the King said in summation. “You never had a chance.”
“What is the song of the mockingbird?” the prisoner croaked out in a parched, dry voice.
“Excuse me?” the King asked.
“I’ve heard nothing but their cries for three days,” the prisoner continued. “And in those three days I’ve pondered that question, the question that was asked me to by a merchant who had the misfortune of meeting me. And I think I know the answer now.”
“What are you talking about?” the King replied, stroking his chin nervously.
“We only hear imitations of other birds. The other birds only hear imitations of themselves. They might listen for their particular call, and note the similarities, the imperfections, compared to the imitation. They might discover an imposter is in the midst. But only one understands the true call of the bird. Only one expects and anticipates the charade from the very beginning.”
“And what bird is that?” the King asked, turning to face the prisoner.
“Another mockingbird,” the prisoner replied. “Your story makes no sense because what you knew. You expected me. You knew I’d be coming. You planned to toss the poison in my face, to break my concentration and to reveal my true nature, just to confirm your suspicions. You knew because you are, for lack of a better term, a fellow mockingbird.”
“That’s more than I expected from you,” the King said, “but still not good enough. Look at me,” he said. The King’s body slowly and visibly shrank. His youth increased even further, and his face changed until it looked startlingly familiar.
“Simon?” the prisoner asked, his voice shaking. “My brother...but, how? I saw you drown...”
“Saw me drown, and did nothing about it! You let me sink beneath those depths. You didn’t try to save me. I knew you always hated me, always were jealous of me, so one day I decided to test just how far you’d go. I wanted to see how you’d react if I was in danger, and did nothing to help.”
“It was so satisfying to watch my family pine away for me, and watch them ignore you. Watch you cry every night,” Simon spat.
“But how did you see?” the prisoner asked. “You were Helga...”
“Yes, Helga. Being her gave me the perfect vantage point. I was about ready to call it off when you showed your true colors - you had the gift too! When you fooled Mother and Father, I knew they were lost causes. I stayed and stayed, hoping you’d crack, hoping you’d expose yourself and earn the ire of them. I could have pushed you over the cliff at any moment, but I wanted to watch you fall on your own, to prove I had mastered the gift better than you. But you never did. I was about ready to slit your throat, but you had the gall to up and leave! I tried to track you but, your trail went cold, quick.”
“But you were always whoring after attention,” Simon continued. “I figured you’d end up wanting to be King eventually. So three years ago, I decided to beat you to it. I killed the King and the Prince, and assumed the identity of the latter, so there’d be no challenges to my rule. I knew all I had to do is wait, and here you are. I could pardon you, but I think I’ll give you the same amount of help you gave me when I was ‘drowning’ in that river.”
“You can’t lock me up and leave me here!” the prisoner cried.
“Oh yes I can!” The King said, shaking the keys in front of his face. “I’m ordering these keys smelted tomorrow. I’ll keep you in here forever - with only the mockingbirds for company. I’ll make you go so mad you’ll beg for a visit from the torturer,” Simon replied. “Goodbye,” he said, before walking away as his appearance slowly shifted back to royalty. He didn’t even bother closing the door to the dungeon as he walked out.
It was only for a brief moment, but the prisoner desperately tried to call up the memory of the keys. With as much concentration as he could muster, he formed himself into their memory, and inserted his hand into the lock.
It clicked.
“Guards, Guards!” the prisoner called out as he morphed himself into the spitting image of the King and ran out of the dungeon. “The shapeshifter has escaped! Find him!”
As he drew closer, though, he couldn’t help but notice. Right on the side of the road, a beautiful damsel sat wearing an ornately frilly and poofy pink dress. With her golden flowing hair and her ample curves, Elan assumed she must be a lady in waiting, and quickly slowed his cart to a halt.
“Need a ride, my lady,” Elan spoke with a moderate brogue, tipping his hat and exposing his nearly bald head.
“Why yes, if by chance you’re headed to the castle,” she said, her voice soft and delicate beyond measure.
“I am, though I’d take you there even if I was headed in the opposite direction,” Elan said as he helped lift her into the cart. As soon as she took a seat, the sharp song of a bird rang out, and then another slightly different song. Each song was followed by a different tune, until nearly a dozen different tunes had been offered.
“I’ve never heard so many different birds sing in sequence like that,” Elan said incredulously.
“It was a lone mockingbird,” she said. “It sings the songs of other birds.”
“Hmm. But what does its own song sound like?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” the young lady replied after several moments of thoughtful hesitation.
With a shake of the reins, they were off.
“And what is your name, good sir?” the young woman inquired.
“Elan, son of Mikas,” he said. “Yourself?”
“I’m assuming you are a merchant,” she said, ignoring his question. “What kind, and who is expecting your arrival?”
Elan paused for a moment, but then answered. “That’s the King’s business.”
“Do I look like someone who can’t keep a secret?” she replied, batting her eyelashes.
“All right,” Elan conceded as he blushed. “I’m carrying supplies, for the royal doctor,” he said. “Nobody else is expecting me,” he added.
The young lady’s eyes grew wide, and then her brow furrowed, as if she was suddenly thinking very intently.
“And does anyone else at the castle know your face?” she said, her voice sharp and matter of fact. The delicate tone from before had vanished.
“No,” he replied, nervously gnawing at his lip. “I’m going to deliver the supplies, be paid, and be off,” Elan finished defensively. “But please, my lady, I must know who you are.”
“I can’t say,” she said.
“Perhaps you can, but you don’t want to,” he replied with a loud guffaw. “Come on, I insist.”
“You can insist all you like, but I can’t tell you because I don’t know myself,” she said.
“What happened? Bump on the head?” he asked. “You must remember something.”
“I remember a great deal,” she said. “How long until we reach the castle?”
“At least an hour,” the merchant replied.
“Alright,” she said after a long sight. “If you’d like, I’ll tell you my story.”
“Yes, please do,” Elan said.
“When I was six, I saw my older brother Simon drown,” she said casually. “It was just me and my brother playing on the frozen river, the one place we were always warned not to go. Nobody knew he was dead except for me.”
Elan started to speak, but the young woman put her hand up to signal she wanted to finish the tale without interruption.
“When I returned home, my mother asked where Simon was. I couldn’t bear to break her heart, so I said I didn’t know. My mother and father were both sick with worry. They kept asking about where I had seen him, trying to organize search parties for days. They wanted to find him more than anything in the world, you see?” she said. Elan merely nodded.
“I don’t know how I did it, but as I was staring at a mirror in my room, I became Simon. I transformed into a dead ringer for my dead brother. Without any warning, my parents burst in. They embraced me and wept for joy. Their child was safe and sound.”
“For the first few weeks, I was treated like a king in that house. And what’s more, I felt so happy I had eased my parent’s worry,” she said. “I felt content to keep up the illusion forever. And as long as I concentrated, it never slipped. But one day, I realized something: the day my parents had found Simon alive and well, I had gone missing in my own house. Why didn’t my parents cry for my absence? Why didn’t they organize frenetic, endless search parties on my behalf?” she said, her voice becoming increasingly shrill.
Elan stared at his companion with a look of bewilderment on his face. He suddenly remembered why he didn’t usually pick up strangers on the side of the road.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? They didn’t love me, they loved Simon, their eldest child. I was nothing to them. They didn’t even mention my name. In fact, after a year had passed, I realized I had forgotten who I was. I asked my mother if I ever had a sibling, but she simply had a pained look in her eye and told me that I had always been an only child. The more time that passed, the less I remembered. Today, I don’t even know if I was once a little girl or a little boy.”
“I couldn’t stay with parents like that, now, could I?” she said, the volume of her voice escalating. “Why give them the gift of the son they loved, when they didn’t care about who I really was? So I studied the first non-family member I could: my nanny, Helga, brought on when my brother vanished beneath the ice. My parents cared more for looking for him than raising me, so they entrusted me to her care.”
“As Simon, I was too old for a nanny, but my parents were not going to let me wander around without supervision. Soon, I found I could take her form as well. When she was sleeping, I simply became her, walked right past my parents in the living room, and out the door. It was almost too easy.”
“And then what happened?” Elan asked, feeling dread in the pit of his stomach. Was she just a liar, was she crazy - perhaps even a witch? He knew that in any case, it wasn’t going to end well. He had a momentary idea of shoving her off of the wagon and whipping his horses like crazy to ride on, but he didn’t want to risk making her angry...
“Ever since, I’ve been wandering from place to place, trying to fit in, trying to win respect. But it’s never long before I’m treated like nothing again, and it’s time to move on. I haven’t had a real purpose in years. That is, until I met you,” she said. “I was hoping to meet someone important within the castle and use their power to my advantage, but you’ve accelerated events for me tremendously.”
“Me?” Elan asked. “What have I got to do with your...troubles?”
“Elan, you’re a lucky man. You’re the first person to whom I’ve told my story, and I gave you that privilege because you’ve given me a purpose. I’ve said for a long time that I’ve travelled around, changing forms, trying my best to win respect. And you said you have an appointment with the royal doctor.”
“What of it?” he said. “The man is wise indeed, but I doubt even he could help with your peculiar...malady,” he said, trying to put it delicately.
“You misunderstand, Elan. I don’t want his help. I want his life,” she said, her voice once again still.
“You say that like you’re ordering him up for breakfast,” Elan retorted.
“I plan on killing him,” she began, “and assuming his identity. The royal doctor is one of the very few people granted a private audience with the King. Once I have one, I’ll kill the King. And then I’ll assume his identity as well,” she said. “Being the King, just think of it! I’ll always have the respect and the attention I deserve.”
“And you think I’ll help you in this treacherous scheme?” Elan said, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling.
“Oh yes,” she replied. “You see, I need to meet with the doctor. And he’s expecting you, isn’t he?” she replied.
“I don’t think this cart is big enough for the two of us,” Elan said as he pulled the reins and brought the horses to a stop.
“My point exactly!” she said. With a single, swift motion, she pulled a dagger from her purse. Before Elan could react, she slashed at his throat and then pushed his body from the cart. She jumped off after him, making sure to roll his body over the side of the road and into a ditch, ensuring he wouldn’t be found immediately.
As she pulled herself back up into the cart, he clothes already looked different. Her pink, frilly dress was shifting into a black vest, and leather pants. Her tummy surged forward and her large breasts shrank, and her delicate face started to bristle with a growing beard. Her golden hair retreated into her scalp, until all of it was gone. Folds appeared on her previously smooth skin.
Within an hour, the cart arrived at the castle. “Who goes there?” the gate guard inquired.
“It is Elan, son of Mikas, merchant to see the royal doctor,” the man replied in a slight brogue.
The gate rose, and the cart went through.
~
“Tell me about King,” Elan asked, “I’m from an isolated and distant village, and I know nothing about politics.”
“It’s really fascinating,” replied the doctor, a young man with bright blue eyes. “While his father ruled, Prince Henry was quite the layabout. He’d binge at the taverns, get involved in petty vandalism, that sort of thing. But when his father died unexpectedly three years ago and the crown was thrust on his head, he turned it around. It’s like being made King made him a completely different person.”
“A serious fellow, then?” Elan asked, as he handed the goods over to the doctor.
“No, not at all. He’s quite charismatic, actually. But he means business. He’s always throwing parties for foreign dignitaries, trying to encourage alliances and trade agreements. And he’s trying to build up our armed reserves. He says he wants to restore our glory days, and I believe him,” the doctor replied, speaking quickly and with a high pitched voice.
“And what are these oils for, if you don't mind me asking?” Elan asked, eying the bottles.
“I’d risk betraying the King’s confidence if I told you, but in fact I haven’t the slightest clue myself. He requested I send for them, but they’re all quite poisonous,” the doctor replied, running his hands through his shock of frizzy, dark hair. “Maybe they’re for some type of experiment.”
“I’m sure he trusts you a great deal,” Elan said before removing his hat and using it to cover the doctor’s mouth. His other hand quickly thrust his blade into the doctor’s gullet.
Elan’s big belly withdrew, his broad shoulders narrowed, and his bald head regrew hair. Years of wrinkles melted away and the course clothes of a travelling merchant transmuted into the fine silks of a royal surgeon. He placed the body of the real doctor in the back of the cart, grabbed a bottle of oil, and darted inside.
“The King, I must see him!” the doctor shouted at the first guard.
“What’s going on?” the man asked.
“His life is in danger!” the doctor exclaimed. “He’s about to be poisoned!”
The guard quickly took him to the King, who was in the middle of the royal dining hall.
“Please tell me you haven’t had any of that food!” the doctor shouted at the King.
“Doctor Ewing, what are you ranting about?” the King replied nonchalantly.
“I need to see you in your quarters, privately. Your life may be in danger,” the physician replied. The King, a young man with a thick mustache, stared into the doctor’s eyes deeply, and then nodded.
“Very well. Continue without me, I’m sure this is nothing,” the King said to his other guests as he walked towards the far hallway. Doctor Ewing followed, muttering about how urgent the situation was.
The King finally turned into one of the rooms, which contained a large, frilly pink bed and a large vanity on the far side of the room.
“Very well, doctor, care to tell me what’s going on?” the King replied.
“I believe you’re in great danger. I’ve been informed that the food served at your table today may be have been poisoned!” he cried out.
“I feel fine,” the King deflected, his voice calm as ice.
“Your highness, it is a fast slow acting poison, but irreversible unless caught in time,” he replied.
“And I presume that’s the antidote under your arm?” said the King, eying the bottle.
“Yes. Please, take a swig of this without any further delay,” Doctor Ewing begged. “I don’t know what the Kingdom would do without you.”
The King accepted the bottle, uncorked it, and smelled it judiciously. With a flick of his wrist, he jostled the bottle in the doctor’s direction, causing the oil to splash onto his face.
“Argh!” the doctor screamed, falling to the floor and clutching his burning skin.
“Guards, guards!” the King called out. They were at the door in seconds. “Throw this shapeshifter assassin in the dungeon,” he commanded. The doctor was rolling on the floor in agony. His clothes were roiling and his skin was changing rapidly. Half his face wore a beard, while the other was clean shaven. His eyes were different colors, and there was a single shoot of long, blonde hair jutting from his forehead. The guards hauled him away without any further incident.
~
For three days, the prisoner languished in the dungeons without any visitation of any kind. No food, no water, no interrogators, no fellow prisoners anywhere near his cell. For three days, the only contact he had with fellow life forms were the birds chirping in the morning, their calls barely audible from his far off cell window.
Finally, a visitor did arrive: the King himself.
“I know, I know,” the King began. “You’re parched. I’ve brought water for you,” he said as he produced a bucket of it, which the prisoner consumed eagerly. “Your throat is dry, don’t bother to speak. I know what you want to ask me. How did I know?”
The prisoner’s only reply was to nod.
“Here’s a story: I suspected an assassin would try to kill me. My father died mysteriously, and I suspect foul play was involved. Why wouldn’t I be next?” the King said, pacing back and forth. “Doctor Ewing’s trust was beyond question, but i had to be sure, didn’t I? Of course, the real Doctor Ewing would have to know that my quarters didn’t contain a pink bed and a vanity. That room is for my wife, whose bed I haven’t shared in three years. The real Doctor Ewing would never assume I was unfamiliar with the shape of the bottle of poison. I saw you a mile away, and you conveniently handed me the weapon with which to dispose of you. You made it too easy for me,” the King said in summation. “You never had a chance.”
“What is the song of the mockingbird?” the prisoner croaked out in a parched, dry voice.
“Excuse me?” the King asked.
“I’ve heard nothing but their cries for three days,” the prisoner continued. “And in those three days I’ve pondered that question, the question that was asked me to by a merchant who had the misfortune of meeting me. And I think I know the answer now.”
“What are you talking about?” the King replied, stroking his chin nervously.
“We only hear imitations of other birds. The other birds only hear imitations of themselves. They might listen for their particular call, and note the similarities, the imperfections, compared to the imitation. They might discover an imposter is in the midst. But only one understands the true call of the bird. Only one expects and anticipates the charade from the very beginning.”
“And what bird is that?” the King asked, turning to face the prisoner.
“Another mockingbird,” the prisoner replied. “Your story makes no sense because what you knew. You expected me. You knew I’d be coming. You planned to toss the poison in my face, to break my concentration and to reveal my true nature, just to confirm your suspicions. You knew because you are, for lack of a better term, a fellow mockingbird.”
“That’s more than I expected from you,” the King said, “but still not good enough. Look at me,” he said. The King’s body slowly and visibly shrank. His youth increased even further, and his face changed until it looked startlingly familiar.
“Simon?” the prisoner asked, his voice shaking. “My brother...but, how? I saw you drown...”
“Saw me drown, and did nothing about it! You let me sink beneath those depths. You didn’t try to save me. I knew you always hated me, always were jealous of me, so one day I decided to test just how far you’d go. I wanted to see how you’d react if I was in danger, and did nothing to help.”
“It was so satisfying to watch my family pine away for me, and watch them ignore you. Watch you cry every night,” Simon spat.
“But how did you see?” the prisoner asked. “You were Helga...”
“Yes, Helga. Being her gave me the perfect vantage point. I was about ready to call it off when you showed your true colors - you had the gift too! When you fooled Mother and Father, I knew they were lost causes. I stayed and stayed, hoping you’d crack, hoping you’d expose yourself and earn the ire of them. I could have pushed you over the cliff at any moment, but I wanted to watch you fall on your own, to prove I had mastered the gift better than you. But you never did. I was about ready to slit your throat, but you had the gall to up and leave! I tried to track you but, your trail went cold, quick.”
“But you were always whoring after attention,” Simon continued. “I figured you’d end up wanting to be King eventually. So three years ago, I decided to beat you to it. I killed the King and the Prince, and assumed the identity of the latter, so there’d be no challenges to my rule. I knew all I had to do is wait, and here you are. I could pardon you, but I think I’ll give you the same amount of help you gave me when I was ‘drowning’ in that river.”
“You can’t lock me up and leave me here!” the prisoner cried.
“Oh yes I can!” The King said, shaking the keys in front of his face. “I’m ordering these keys smelted tomorrow. I’ll keep you in here forever - with only the mockingbirds for company. I’ll make you go so mad you’ll beg for a visit from the torturer,” Simon replied. “Goodbye,” he said, before walking away as his appearance slowly shifted back to royalty. He didn’t even bother closing the door to the dungeon as he walked out.
It was only for a brief moment, but the prisoner desperately tried to call up the memory of the keys. With as much concentration as he could muster, he formed himself into their memory, and inserted his hand into the lock.
It clicked.
“Guards, Guards!” the prisoner called out as he morphed himself into the spitting image of the King and ran out of the dungeon. “The shapeshifter has escaped! Find him!”