“We are curious to see you.”

A maelstrom within the Voice,

not her own, but the queen’s—

None but her servants had viewed her

in three hundred years,

yet Xau a fascination—

“If you will answer my question,

I will let you see me.”

Xau nodded. “Agreed.”

“Very well. I await you.”

The queen withdrew.

Released, herself again,

the Voice gave the ritual phrase,

“So spoke the Queen.”

Xau stood, bowed low.

“Thank you for speaking for her.

We appreciate it.”

Behind her veil, disconcerted,

she who had once been Farahnaz hesitated—

men never noticed her,

never considered her as more

than a mere mouthpiece—

“That is my purpose,” she said at length.

“I am the Voice of the Hidden Queen.

Follow me. I will take you to her.”

THE HIDDEN QUEEN

King Xau smelled the queen

before he saw her—

a noxious mix of fish,

rotten eggs and perfume

permeated the passage

to her underground chamber.

The Voice opened the door.

A vast gelatinous bulk sagged

on a grate in the floor:

six-eyed, six-mouthed

with suckered tentacles

that glistened with slime.

Xau bowed deeply,

schooling his expression

to polite neutrality,

though his stomach roiled.

“Thank you for letting us

come to meet you.”

The queen flicked a tentacle

and her servants left.

“Tell me,” said the queen

in a six-mouthed echoing,

“whose voice the demon used

when he spoke to you.”

“Keng’s,” said Xau.

“Our second oldest brother,

after whom we named our son.”

“Aaaah,” she sighed,

moistly, malodorously.

“Tell me about this brother.”

“We loved him,” said Xau.

“We loved him before

we could write our name.

He was the first to teach us

how to wield a sword.

He let us ride his horse.”

Four scant sentences,

all he could manage

in a level tone.

“Aaaah,” she sighed again.

“How then did you find

the will to slay the demon?”

“We were desperate.

We knew no other way

to save our kingdom.”

Memory, sharp, cut him.

“Khyert, our friend, threw himself

upon flames meant for us.”

“Khyert,” sighed the queen.

“He is not in the ballad.”

“No. Nor did the battle

last till dawn, and nor

was the fight glorious.

The ballad is wrong.

We are not the equal

of our reputation.”

“Are you not? I am.”

A yellow fist-sized glob

wriggled from the base

of the queen’s corpulence

and slithered across

the floor toward Xau.

With unexpected speed,

the queen seized the glob

with a suckered tentacle,

dropped it in a mouth

and swallowed noisily.

“As ever, I am delicious.”

Xau raised his eyebrows.

“Well, not exactly myself.

I believe that what I ate

was one of my offspring.”

Xau struggled to compose himself.

“You just ate your child?”

“If that is what it was.

I’ve never been certain.

I don’t remember my beginnings,

nor others of my kind,

nothing until I was goat-sized

and slithered from a desert cave.”

“You’ve never let any of your

... children... survive?”

“No. I am not yet so vile as that.”