Chapter 11

Utaw and Princess Maya

That night, the area in front of Uncle Ilas’ stall was more crowded than Dalon had ever seen it. Framed by the star-spattered night sky and the torch-lit borders of the market, the scene before him could have been a vision from Karí. Villagers from Lurit in their faded tunics and patched skirts mingled with the visiting merchants and their families, clad in expensive silks and shining jewelleries. Faces peered at Dalon, some calm and curious, others eager and flushed with drink from dinner.

Behind Dalon, the tantalizing scent of rice cakes emanated from Uncle Ilas’ stall. Even after a day of festive eating, many folks still had room for a late-night treat. A warm, humid breeze blew from the river, lending an enchanted atmosphere to the vicinity that made Dalon light-headed.

At least, he wished his light-headedness was because of the atmosphere. The nagging ache at the back of his throat was insisting otherwise.

Dalon blinked several times to steady his sight and noticed Karí in the crowd. Her hair fell in two tight braids by her ears. Beside her was the young woman who’d accompanied her by the Big River, as well as her brother, Haban, if Dalon recalled correctly. Dalon would have to be careful not to look in that direction too often or too long while narrating.

Fortunately, there were others he could divert his attention to. His father sat on a mat at the front of the crowd with Toba cradled in his lap. After dropping off their ration of rice at home, Dalon had travelled to the northern market accompanied by his father, who bore the painful trek so both he and Toba could listen to Dalon for the first time. Dalon’s Ma was still too feverish to join them, however.

Once most of the crowd settled in their spots, Dalon paced up a few steps and straightened his shoulders. One advantage of being a taller boy was that when he stood at his full height, people tended to pay attention. The crowd quieted, and he smiled.

“Welcome, good folks of Lurit and beyond!” he began, projecting his voice to the farthest rows of spectators. “With a busy day behind us and another one ahead, I know how attractive a sleeping cot is at this time. So I’m grateful that you’ve chosen to be here, and I hope I don’t disappoint.”

An irresistible cough spurted just after his last words. Dalon buried his face in his elbow and turned away from the audience. He breathed in a few calming puffs, willing the light tickle in his throat to ebb. When he looked back ahead, Karí held his gaze and nodded. A vote of confidence.

He cleared his throat and began again. “Many of you come from places I’ve never seen, places I can only imagine. Perhaps it’s a settlement with a bustling port where karakoas dock in the haze of the setting sun. Perhaps it’s a sprawling village by a stunning staircase of taro paddies. Some of you might even come from states vast enough for your leader to call himself a king. A mighty king. A king much like King Luyong.” He gave a small chuckle. “Except I’m fairly certain your king doesn’t have a daughter hidden in a secret cave.”

A smattering of snickers rippled through the crowd, and a few children laughed outright in that careless way they did. Dalon continued, “Although King Luyong was a powerful man, he lived in fear that someone would take his beloved daughter away. Thus, out in the wilderness not too far from the city-state he ruled, he built a home for the princess in an underground cave. And if some of his subjects thought this strange, all they had to hear was the heartbreaking concern marring King Luyong’s words whenever he spoke of his daughter. It was easy to believe him, to believe that this was the only way the princess could be safe.”

Dalon started the story in earnest, describing the miserable journey that the impoverished Utaw and his father made from King Luyong’s city to the wilderness. They held hope that the forest might still save them from starvation.

The visions that Karí had transmitted to Dalon two nights before were still so crisp in his mind that he had no trouble summoning the words to paint a likeness to the audience before him.

He arrived at the part where Utaw met Princess Maya through the hole in the ground, and confused frowns settled on the faces in the crowd. Deep among the rows of seated folks, someone mumbled, “Is he going to rescue her now? This will be a short retelling.”

Dalon smiled and nodded. “A fine observation, my good sir. One that also came to our clever Utaw as he rounded the pile of boulders, trying to search for an exit for his new friend. Yet, try as he might, he didn’t know how her parents and servants could enter the underground cave. And he wasn’t sure how to pry open the chink in the ground without the whole area collapsing on Maya.

“But it was Maya herself who was not so receptive to a rescue. See, it wasn’t enough to escape from the cave, for her father would simply look for her and secure her again. Instead, she must find a way for him to allow her to leave.”

Their early friendship, however, was not a harbinger of a luckier fate for Utaw’s father. Just like in the original tale, Dalon detailed how Utaw’s father caught an illness in the forest and passed away soon afterwards. Wanting to provide his father with a proper burial, Utaw travelled back to King Luyong’s city to beg for someone to perform the ceremonial rites. A wealthy cloth-merchant happened to pass by and offered him a deal: if Utaw could device a substitute for silk, the cloth-merchant would pay for his father’s rites and funeral.

A deep attentiveness blanketed the audience as they listened to how Utaw harvested a special reed in the forest. Even Toba stared back at Dalon with wide eyes, his dolphin toy clutched to his chest. And although Utaw didn’t soften the reeds enough to replace silk, nor brighten it to the same sheen, the cloth-merchant was still enamoured with the resulting texture of the cloth. He decided not only to pay for the funeral for Utaw’s father, but also to adopt Utaw as heir to his business. For the next few months, Utaw’s life was immersed in various educational pursuits, from commerce to arithmetic, from negotiation to literacy.

“One sunny day while Utaw was practicing his writing, a string of words came unbidden to his mind,” Dalon said. “They were simply pretty words that meant little to him, but all the symbols of their kingdom’s abugida were present in them. You may hide your treasure with every care, and watch it well, but it will be spent at last. Over and over, he etched the sentence on a bamboo sheet. When he had filled the entire page, he brushed the etchings with ash to darken them. He set it aside by his windowsill and left for a meal.”

Utaw wasn’t aware that a draft lifted the page off of the windowsill, and it drifted to the street just as King Luyong was passing by. Enraged by what he’d read, the king summoned the merchant’s entire household and, eventually, Utaw was brought to him.

Dalon’s voice seeped with foreboding. “The moment Utaw knelt before King Luyong, he understood the reason behind the man’s simmering anger. The king mistakenly believed this was about Princess Maya. If King Luyong discovered that Utaw knew where the princess was hidden, he was under no illusion that he would be killed.

“‘What treasure do you speak of here?’ King Luyong loomed above Utaw’s bowed figure. He was resplendent in his robe of shimmering moon patterns on rich indigo, like some angry god of the night. ‘And what threat do you pose by saying it will be spent at last?’

“‘My king, this is nothing but a phrase to practice my abugida,’ Utaw implored. ‘It means nothing. Please believe me. I have no treasure, nor do I know about the treasure of anyone else.’”

But King Luyong sensed his answer was not entirely true. The king banished him from the city, forbidden to seek help even from his own adoptive father. The boy returned to his hut in the wilderness and related everything that had transpired between him and the king to Princess Maya. He was prepared to say goodbye to her, believing that there was nothing left for him there, when she stopped him.

“‘Listen, Utaw. I have a plan,’ she said. ‘Three nights ago, some travellers rested against those boulders up there and I heard them talking about a place deep in the wilderness. There, according to them, one would find a small, old hut among a thick cluster of mangroves. It is the home of a benevolent spirit who can grant small miracles for a precious offering.’ And as Utaw listened to her instructions, he realized that not only was this a plan to help him. It was also a plan to help herself. A plan to force her father’s hand into releasing her.”

Dalon detailed Utaw’s adventures through the depths of the forest, fighting shadowy creatures and dodging mud-dwelling tricksters. Utaw was not a boy built to be a warrior, nor did he have an amulet to help him, but he did have his wits and his persistence. After falling into a river and pulling himself out using the roots of the mangroves lining the shore, he happened upon the dilapidated hut where the spirit lived. He placed at its doorstep the only remaining possession he had of his father: a wooden ring. Then he requested the two things Maya instructed him to ask for.

“‘I want a musical instrument that makes the most beautiful sound anyone has ever heard, no matter who plays it,’ Utaw wished. ‘And I want a beautifully carved boat with a secret compartment beneath.’ Upon uttering these words, a great exhaustion overtook him, and he fell into a deep slumber right on the steps of the hut. When he woke the next day, a flute made of the smoothest wood sat on his lap. Through the mangroves, he could glimpse a boat tethered to a stump. It was carved with bas-reliefs depicting scenes from an ancient legend about moon-eating sea-serpents. With these two items in tow, Utaw returned to Princess Maya to plan the next steps of their trap.”

Well into the night, Dalon narrated of how Utaw hired an errand boy to ride the boat up and down the river of the city while playing the flute. It didn’t take long before word got to King Luyong, and he offered to buy both the flute and the boat. “‘My daughter has been yearning for something new to entertain her,’ he said. ‘The flute would be a great addition to her instruments, and the boat would be a unique artifact in her home. She loves to study the ancient tales.’

“That night, the king sent these gifts into the cave where Princess Maya lived. Unbeknownst to everyone, Utaw had stowed away in the hidden compartment beneath the boat.”

Quiet excitement ruffled through the crowd. Anticipation mounted for the first face-to-face meeting between Utaw and Princess Maya.

Dalon softened his voice and slowed his pace. “Once the servants had rowed the boat through the underground river and left, Utaw lifted the lid of the compartment. He stepped out into a large cavern with stalactites hanging from the ceiling. Enormous boulders were scattered by the banks, worn smooth by the rushing waters. Tucked into the innermost crevice of the cavern was a space filled with embroidered tapestries and silken curtains. Cots of varying sizes squatted across the area, softened by rich cotton blankets and cushions. A stone-carved shelf held shiny pots and jars, gold-encrusted chests, and silver-lined containers. Soft light emanated from a clever arrangement of mirrors that reflected the moonlight streaming from several holes in the cave ceiling.

“Utaw stepped towards the alcove, but before he could go too far, a figure stood up from the opposite side of the boat. It was a young woman dressed in blue and crimson silks. Her straight, shiny hair fell in a splash over her shoulders. Her face was perfectly ordinary.”

Dalon suppressed an amused smile as confused frowns flitted over the faces of his listeners. Princesses were always beautiful, weren’t they? Why was Princess Maya — the Princess Maya — not one of them?

But he wasn’t finished describing her yet. “Utaw approached her, but when she shifted towards the moonlight, he stopped in his tracks, shocked and mesmerized.

“On her chest, embedded into her flesh like mother-of-pearl on a shell, was a thumb-sized ruby.”

The confused frowns deepened on the faces of the audience. This was definitely not part of the original tale. Dalon fought against speeding through the explanation, knowing that he had to dispense this part slowly.

“‘What is that?’ Utaw whispered.

“Princess Maya — for he was certain this could be nobody else but the princess — invited him, ‘Touch it and find out.’

“He pressed a finger against the smooth surface of the ruby. Nothing happened. He lowered his hand, puzzled. But the princess only smiled, stretching her hand toward the boat. ‘Recite for me the epic depicted here.’

“Utaw was bewildered at her instruction, but as he began to decipher the carvings of the sea-serpent, and to string together images of people pounding on drums, he found to his utter surprise that the words came clearly and precisely to his mind. They flew out of his mouth in a lilting tide, as if he’d known this legend by heart. But he was unfamiliar with most of it, and unfamiliar too with the tight string of words that he was miraculously weaving now. He spun back to Princess Maya in amazement.

“‘This ruby is an amulet,’ Princess Maya explained. ‘I was born with it.’”

A few people from the audience gasped. Eyes widened. Some mouths hung open. For a moment, Dalon worried that he and Karí had stretched this tale too far for comfort. Nobody was born with an amulet. Nobody was born as an amulet. Were these additions more than people could handle?

But then a few smiles appeared. One man clutched what remained of his thinning hair and chuckled. “What’s happening?” he said in a low voice, but his grin showed his amusement. Dalon gripped that reaction like it was a piece of driftwood at sea and forged on with his story.

“Princess Maya continued, ‘My father could barely speak to a room full of nobility before I was born. Only afterwards did he gain the skills to charm a crowd and convince even the hardiest naysayers to agree with him. He must visit me at least every month or his eloquence fades.’

“Utaw could hardly believe what he was hearing. Hadn’t the king been known for his talent for speaking his entire life? Or had people simply forgotten? Sometimes people got so comfortable with a change that they couldn’t remember a time when things had been any different. But as Utaw stared at Princess Maya, at her humble face, at the clever glint in her eyes, then back at the ruby on her chest, things began to make sense. Why would King Luyong, a man reputed for his justice and reason just as much as his words, keep his own daughter trapped in a cave? Utaw understood now.”

The audience released satisfied sighs and whispers. The one question most people had upon hearing this story for the first time finally had an answer.

Dalon entered the last part of the story. “King Luyong visited his daughter the next morning to see how she liked his gifts, when he found the boy whom he’d banished sitting there in the alcove with her. He demanded to know what Utaw was doing there, to which Utaw simply replied, ‘You may hide your treasure with every care, and watch it well, but it will be spent at last.’”

Utaw told the king that he wished to marry his daughter, in keeping with Princess Maya’s plan of escape. In return, he would keep the amulet a secret, along with King Luyong’s covetous reliance on it. If any harm were ever to come to Utaw, a spirit from the forests would reveal King Luyong’s secret to the masses.

King Luyong believed him, for the power of the amulet was still working in Utaw. Understanding that he had been outsmarted, the king accepted the offer rather than be shamed before his people.

“For the first time in many years, Princess Maya stepped aboveground and smelled the fresh, open air. King Luyong announced their upcoming wedding to the city, and the people rejoiced, none the wiser about what had occurred in the cave out in the wilderness.”

For a space of a few breaths, Dalon remained quiet. His next words, tenderly delivered, ended the story with finality. “This is how I heard the story of ‘Utaw and Princess Maya.’ When next you greet your neighbours by the river and the fields, by the mountain and the sea, ask them how they heard it and tell it back to me.”

The audience burst into applause so loud and so long that it could have rivaled furious waves crashing against a cliff-face. Dalon had to take a step back, his tentative smile widening into a full-out grin. For a moment he forgot the ache in his throat, the subtle shakiness at the edges of his vision. Fiery joy burned in his chest, a mingling of satisfaction for a job well-done and gratitude for the precious reward that came with it.

Dalon turned around, about to grab the winnower from Uncle Ilas’ counter, when his surroundings spun with him. He staggered, but caught himself on the counter just in time.

“Easy there,” Uncle Ilas said, hardly audible with the cheering of the crowd. “Tired from the long story, are we? Well, this ought to cheer you up.” The rice-cake vendor pulled the winnower away, then replaced it with a deeper basket. “I had a feeling you’ll be needing this.”

Dalon’s cheeks warmed. He thanked Uncle Ilas then gave the basket to the front row of the audience.

The crowd had lapsed into heated conversations, going over the events of the story and ironing out the new revelations. He found Karí amidst the group, a stunned smile on her face as if she had been about to laugh, but forgot in the process of absorbing as many reactions as she could. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. Her head swiveled to the young woman who declared this a more romantic retelling than the original, then her eyes caught the old man who was so moved by Princess Maya’s cleverness despite being trapped.

The girl beside Karí with the shiny, straight hair nudged her in the ribs and nodded in Dalon’s direction. Dalon quickly looked away, squinting at where the basket was now.

It took a long time for the crowd to disperse, and the earnings in the basket when he received it were enough to make Dalon’s knees quiver. Even after giving Uncle Ilas half of it, and estimating the amount that would go to Karí, there was enough to buy bamboo and to overflow his savings jar.

Dalon’s Pa approached him, with a sleepy Toba already tucked in the child-carrier slung across his back. He stared at Dalon with a proud, serene gaze, one that somehow reached into Dalon’s heart much more strongly than any other reaction in the crowd that night.

“How far you’ve come from the little boy chittering at his mother’s bedside,” Dalon’s Pa said, eyes glittering. “I’m so honoured your Ma and I got to hear you first all those years ago. And she would be too.”

Dalon swallowed away an ache in his throat. “Thank you, Pa. I wish mother was here too.”

As they walked down the path to the coast, Dalon linked an arm with his father to steady them both.