Page 3 of Story of Tilula

merchant roared. He would not allow such a beast in the premises of his home.

  "You need not worry, old man. By day I will sit behind the curtains of his room, and by night I will sleep under his bed. But you will have to make sure that an extra serving of his meal will be brought in, so that I may sneak some into my stomach when he is asleep."

  "You will hide from him?"

  Though Indri knew that it would be an ordeal - a very uncomfortable one - he realized that it would be the only way to convince the old merchant. He didn't want to hide. He wanted to talk to other people about anything other than the healing water he sold. He wanted company, to mingle with men and women outside the safety of the forest. But he realized that this could not be so. "I shall not be seen by anyone."

  The merchant bowed his head in thought. And finally, knowing that it was the best bargain he would get, he agreed. "If that is truly your plan, and if that is truly the only other way by which you will give me my son's cure, then I consent. We leave at sunset, and we will travel by night out of this forest and into the country."

  "Then we must waste no time in fetching some water from the spring." Indri motioned for the merchant to stand and follow him. The merchant caught up as they made their way to the back of the mansion, where the path to the magical spring was located. They passed beautifully constructed corridors and lush indoor gardens along the way. "My sprites will assist us in this, for the spring must not be sullied by mortal hands."

  "Yes indeed," the merchant agreed.

  The two headed to where they needed to, mere customer and proprietor. The merchant, his heart filled with relief, and Indri with his heart of black. Not another word passed between them.

  --

  Tilula carefully swept aside the curtain that separated the parlor from the main hall. In her hands she carried a tray stacked with plenty of food. There was a bowl of fragrant rice, a plate of filleted fish and a saucer of delicious honeyed biscuits. There was also a pot of sweet-smelling tea dissolved in more medicinal water.

  Tilula coughed a little to gain her father's attention.

  Taruk, at that moment, was leaning over his little son, the latter fast asleep on the soft bed. Taruk momentarily raised his head and, upon noticing his older child, smiled and pointed to the bedside table. "Put that over there, my dear."

  "Yes, Father." Tilula managed to reach the table and put the tray atop it without spilling any of the food onto her elaborate skirt. After she set the spoon and fork upon their proper places on the tray, she took a seat upon one of the chairs in the room. Tilula crossed her one leg over the other, and observed her father. She was worried when her father departed, but was relieved when he returned safely. "The villagers were mighty glad you came back unharmed. They thought something terrible had happened to you. That perhaps you'd been eaten by the monster. Tell me, Father. Is this Indri really as horrible as you said?"

  Her father turned towards her and put a finger over his mouth as a signal for Tilula to quiet down. "I would appreciate it if we did not talk of him. It would do no good for your brother's health if he had nightmares."

  "Very well," Tilula sighed. It seemed that she was not going to get any answers from her father. Deciding it best to tidy up the room and leave quickly as possible, she got up from her seat. She made her way to the front of the window, so that she could draw the curtains aside and let the summer sun shine upon the darkened room.

  "No!!!" Taruk yelled when he realized what his daughter was doing.

  "Father? What is it?" Tilula asked, surprised at her father's violent reaction.

  "I - that is - your brother. He is not to be touched by the light of the sun." Taruk stuttered.

  "What for? It's awful dark in here. I thought it might help heal my brother."

  The old merchant smiled gently. He calmed himself down, aware that any more violent outbursts would reveal the intruder that had hidden himself behind the thick window curtains. "Thank you for your thoughtfulness, love, but indri assured me that the water worked best without the sun's intervention."

  "And here I thought we weren't going to talk about him," Tilula jested.

  "Oh, you are a clever one. It's a shame you weren't born a man. You would have made for a fine merchant like I."

  "Perhaps I inherited my mind from Mother?" she asked. She enjoyed the times when she could freely converse with her father. It happened only in the moments the man was in a good mood. But these talks also unsettled her; for these were the times she was reminded that her father wanted a male heir. And no matter how fetching, how clever and how diligent she was, she would never become the ideal child her father had wished for.

  "Perhaps?" Taruk broke into his daughter's thoughts. "Now, I need to get going. There's plenty more to sell, not enough customers waiting?"

  "I do find it odd that this Indri did not take anything for payment. It was? most kind of him. Hardly monstrous at all." Tilula continued, oblivious to the tension that was mounting inside her father's thoughts.

  "Tilula," Taruk scolded. "Anyhow, I will see your mother that we might prepare to go to the market. Remember, you must not open the curtains."

  "Yes, Father. Goodbye, Father."

  Tilula watched obediently as her father left the room. And once he did, she turned to check her brother's health. And she was surprised to see her brother wide awake, looking at her with those curious eyes of his.

  "Tilula, who is Indri?" the little boy asked eagerly.

  Tilula sighed, realizing her mistake. Once her brother heard something of interest, he was not going to let go of the issue. "No one of importance, little one."

  "Did he give me my medicine?" he asked again.

  "I suppose so." Tilula didn't want to quarrel with her father, and the only way to do this would be to prevent expounding on the topic of Indri. Somehow, she had to make her brother understand that the story of Indri's ruthlessness was something not for children's ears. "Look. Father specifically told me not to worry you with tales of hideous monsters."

  "Is he a hideous monster?"

  This was a question she knew she would not be able to answer.

  If it were not for his constant bouts of sickness, her brother would be just as curious as her while remaining oblivious to the danger his inquiries invited. But Tilula never told lies to her brother, and had no plans to begin doing so. "I have not seen him for myself, so how should I know?"

  "Then how are you sure that he is what you say he is?"

  Her brother was right. She did not know who this Indri really was, and thus could not conclude anything about him. All she could do was give this unknown man the benefit of the doubt, until an opportunity to come face to face with him might arise.

  "Enough, my little heart. As much as I would like to talk about this notorious man, I cannot. Father will have my hide if he so much as suspects I disobeyed him. Shall we conclude that this Indri is a fine man who selflessly offered us medicine without hidden agenda, unless proven otherwise?" Tilula smiled. She reached for the tray that she'd prepared for her brother. She noticed that there was lots of food upon it, an amount her brother would not be able to finish up. But she was in no position to mention it to her father.

  "All right," her brother agreed.

  "Good. Now eat up, and let me think of something else we can talk about when I return." Tilula patted her brother on the head before leaving the room. She had plenty more work to do around the house. She stated her chores out loud as she made her way to the door, so that she would not forget them.

  And behind the curtain, Indri listened as her melodious voice waned from his hearing. And Indri felt lonelier than ever.

  --

  News of the frog prince's rage spread rapidly over the forest. He'd returned some days ago, as ugly as he had left, but more black-hearted than ever. His visage remained the same, and he was angered because of this. In his rage he shattered countless glass facets in his mansion, and broke numerous furniture when, in a fit of temper, he flung them about the rooms.
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  His abominable behavior quickly reached the ears of the elder sprites in the sky, and thus they sent the prince's mother down to earth to reason with him.

  "I did not raise you to rant like a lunatic in your own home. Look at this place! What a mess!" The lovely sprite marched from her pedestal atop the balcony, and into the parlor. There was broken crystal everywhere, and lengths of wood that used to be table legs and reinforcements. And in the corner of the room, she spotted her son. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

  Indri raised his head and exposed the angry haze in his eyes. He'd been fooled. Deceived. He'd been stupid enough to believe the old tale of the elder sprites. His own mother had not guaranteed the success of the task. He should have listened. "It didn't work. I lived and breathed in the presence of virtue, and it didn't work."

  "May I know who specifically it is you are talking about?" Indri's mother asked as she started setting the room to rights.

  "The merchant's son," Indri replied.

  "Hmm? I see." she thought about her son's choice. "Well, he is virtuous in his own way. However, one must be in the presence of great virtue. Sacrifice. Love. A unique character so very few possess."

  "It's no use!" Indri buried his face in his hands. He felt an utter despair he had never felt in many, many years. He'd been given a sprinkle of hope. He'd grasped it with both hands, and prayed for its success. And this hope had been crushed cruelly. The desolation in which he