THE ORPHAN TOOK a seat before the wedded frogs, his legs crossed and his palms resting upon the cold, marbled pavement.
"Dear Orphan, you must rise at once! You shall stain your festival raiment with filth!" Mrs. Toadellia cried in worry, leaping from the edge of the pool to grasp at the hem of Maze's garments.
"I have already taken my seat, Mrs. Toadellia. It would serve little purpose to stand now, would it not?" Maze countered gently, prompting the Farekeeper to release a defeated sigh. "Furthermore, I desire to hear your tale eye-to-eye . . . "
"You put me in mind of your Highness, Sir Azaniel, young man." A note of profound interest colored Mr. Frogvinsky's voice. "I would say your behavior is much the same, though your characters differ. That man appeared cold to the world, while you do not." He paused, casting a glance toward the underground tunnel behind them. "Hm, we possess sufficient time for a brief chronicle. Before we begin, might I learn your name?"
"And remove that mask of yours, dear Orphan. This poor old woman frog wishes to behold the fine countenance of one with such a fine voice." Mrs. Toadellia giggled, her eyes blinking rapidly. She then settled herself upon Maze's thigh, cushioned by his heavy robes. "If I may rest here," she added.
Maze did not object. He took off the deer skull mask and set it aside, revealing his face. Mr. Frogvinsky's eyes widened as he observed the youth, his gaze lingering upon the blindfold. Even in the dim light of the evening, the peculiar foil gold shroud appeared luminous, wrapped perfectly around his head without a single knot to be seen.
"Such a flower-face!" Mrs. Toadellia remarked, clasping her hands together as if bashful of her own praise, though no ill intent was behind it.
"Hm, an interesting specimen." The male frog cleared his throat. "In any case, pardon my wife and let her be. At times she is prone to such clinginess that I myself wish to escape her."
Mrs. Toadellia snorted and cast a sharp glare at Mr. Frogvinsky, who remained perched at the pool's edge. The clerk sat, suppressed a cough, and rested his thicket upon his lap.
"Now, then, lend me your ear, Mr. Miz . . . I must address you as such, may I?" Mr. Frogvinsky's lids grew sluggish as he delved into the past. "The story began with Highness Azaniel as a regular Fertile Orphan in the Camp, much like yourself. In that hour, the revered individual was simple and unassuming, yet distant and cold. Once he and his companions had completed the Ceremony of Patrimony and prepared for the festival, it was the first time that we — my wife and I — encountered him. He was not the first Orphan we had beheld; indeed, many before him had survived the trials. Yet, it seemed fate intended to draw us closer to your kind through the Highness."
Many thoughts raced through Maze's mind, for he was well aware that Orphans had existed long before his arrival. Below had always stood alongside Yonder, both surely the creations of the Builders, even if the God of the Widows had since adopted and sustained their Tower. He mused upon the many hardships his Siblings must have endured, wondering why Below was never favored by the Builders and was instead left to the care of the Widower, but that was a discussion for another time. His focus remained upon his Sir Azaniel. He truly wished to know his history.
It was now Mrs. Toadellia's turn to speak. "The Highness was the only Orphan to whom we grew close, and if you are curious, it was a messy affair." Her shoulders slumped with the weight of the memory. "In those days, just as it is now when the Children gather here," she said, gesturing to the surrounding area, "he was bullied. This occurred ten years ago, and even before then, it was a common cruelty. They were made into objects of ridicule before the masses."
"In those times, no law existed to prohibit the use of power within the Camp. It was truly chaotic and fractured," Mr. Frogvinsky continued. "In truth, one would seldom see the Heirs quarrel amongst themselves, for they hailed from Yonder and viewed one another as allies. Perhaps that remains true today, though times are changing . . . " Mr. Frogvinsky shrugged, as if shaking off a stray thought. "It was only recently that a law was enacted to forbid Children from abusing their gifts within the Camp without the Directors' consent. I have forgotten, however, who first proposed such an act."
"To be brief, dear Orphan," Mrs. Toadellia said with a smile, "I attempted to perform my duties as Farekeeper and found myself amidst a commotion." She giggled at the recollection. "To my great surprise, it was not my husband who saved me, but the Highness. Was that not sweet? An outcast shielding a frog from a power that was meant to strike me. Someone from the crowd had cast a spell, and he placed himself in its path to protect me. In that moment, my husband and I truly began to believe . . . " her eyes grew tearful, " . . . that the seemingly wretched kind from Below were merely misunderstood. From then on, we sought to be near him and his company."
"In the beginning, it was us who sought him out. Every time, we would offer him sustenance or attempt to provide medicine, or even heal him ourselves. Though an infirmary existed, the bastards within those walls were as indifferent toward the Orphans as the rest." A note of bitterness sharpened Mr. Frogvinsky's voice. "But he was the one who eventually took the initiative, after our persistent attempts to draw near to him. There was even an instance where he himself ventured to our tree house, the dwelling where we reside within the Camp."
Maze could truly perceive a profound warmth in the character of this wedded pair, as they had been open to discourse from the very beginning. He found it slightly peculiar that Mr. Frogvinsky addressed him as 'Mr. Miz,' yet he did not raise a protest to alter the name. He did not mind it overmuch. Besides, the tale the couple could recount was likely brief.
Still, Maze harbored another inquiry: "May I ask who else accompanied Sir Azaniel during his time here in the Camp?"
"Hm, I cannot quite recall . . . The memories have perhaps faded. Huh, as I remember, there were, somehow, five of them." Mr. Frogvinsky scratched his nape before adjusting his small frock cap. "But likely five, yes, indeed. There were five of them then."
"In that case, have you also forgotten their appearance?" Maze pressed, his curiosity growing. Though he himself was largely uninformed, he believed Sir Azaniel had mentioned someone once. The memory was faint, yet he felt certain that if his Highness had a constant companion, it would be someone close to him. Someone to whom he was betrothed. "Perhaps . . . an Orphan with eyes of deep emerald?"
"YES!" Mrs. Toadellia exclaimed.
Maze flinched at her sudden fervor.
"What do you mean, Mrs. Toadellia? Was there indeed a person among them with such an eye color?"
The lady frog nodded several times, her eyes twinkling. "Olivia!" she began. "Her name — now that I think upon it — I recall that he possessed a certain Orphan rival in those days!"
They were rivals then? Maze questioned within his mind. He was baffled yet intrigued by the scenario unfolding in his imagination, envisioning them both in a spotlight as they contended with one another, perhaps driven by an ideal where each sought to surpass the other.
"Do you remember her, dear wife?" Mr. Frogvinsky asked with a wrinkled expression. "For I cannot summon the memory. Remind me, quickly, quickly."
"Very well, it was thus." Mrs. Toadellia adjusted her seat. "Miss Olivia, of whom I have heard no news lately, was quite a formidable woman of the same age as he. They were archenemies."
It seemed Maze's suspicions were correct.
"You see, they truly did not find harmony together, yet not in a manner where they sought to inflict harm, for at the end of the day, both were subjected to discrimination. Nevertheless, that proved no obstacle to their excellence. Truly, they were regarded as the stars of their era." Mrs. Toadellia spoke with great approval. "Indeed, my former foster son often recounted to us how he was vexed by Miss Olivia, and there was a time he suffered defeat in a match, and perhaps within a class where they might have battled. I cannot recall the nature of the battle, whether of wits or otherwise."
But look at them now — they are also wedded, as the two of you are. Maze nearly allowed a smirk to grace his lips. Had he still been wearing his mask, he might have succumbed to the urge. Yet he did not let his intrusive thoughts prevail.
Whenever Maze heard Mrs. Toadellia refer to Sir Azaniel as her "former foster son," a gentle warmth fluttered within him. It was as if she had truly claimed him as her own child, and the Farekeeper clearly held no reservations regarding the title. Maze found no fault in her affection. Such small, tender revelations were truly a joy to behold.
Mrs. Toadellia released a long, lingering sigh. "Those were truly the good old days!"
Clank, clank!
It appeared their hour for discourse had reached its end.
Mrs. Toadellia rose from her place beside Maze and returned to her husband's side, gathering her belongings as the Farekeeper. Maze, meanwhile, donned his wooden mask once more. The time had come for him to venture into the underground tunnel and board the Cradle.
"It seems our conversation concludes here, Mr. Miz," Mr. Frogvinsky said, offering his farewell.
Maze nodded, yet as he took his first step down the spiraling stairs, he paused and glanced back at the wedded pair. "If I may, I wish to make a request." He hesitated for a brief moment. "Should you summon me or if we happen to meet again, I would prefer you address me as Miz. Simply . . . call me Miz."
Though "Maze" would have sufficed, he felt a certain kinship in granting a nickname to those with whom he shared a bond. There was no harm in such a gesture.
Both frogs offered him a sincere smile.
Something stirred deep within Maze's chest.
"We should surely desire to meet you again."
Maze, in the quiet of that night, smiled as he descended into the depths.
He, too, wished to encounter them.
Over and over.