LotS/The Story/Puny Human Birthdays/BeyondGordium

Princess Illaria scrutinized her enemy. She examined the foe from each angle, and pondered the many avenues of attack she might avail herself of. That fiendish adversary stood between the young girl and her prize. Thus she had every intention of vanquishing it.

But it was a complex knot. The orange ribbon which bound the golden box closed was twisted and tied in so inscrutable a tangle that it made the most elaborate sageo knot upon a warrior's scabbard seem like a clumsy child's shoelace in comparison.

Her diminutive brow creased itself into a frown. Her gaze seemed to sharpen, as though she were a predator scheming how she might bring about her quarry's destruction. But its defenses looked impenetrable...

The forehead became smooth in an instant. Her mouth formed a triumphant smile. Of course!

She walked away from the little round pedestal upon which the box rested -- though she kept her eyes fastened on her enemy, lest it attempt some form of subterfuge the moment she turned her back. Her fingers, elegant and dexterous in spite of her tender years, lifted a sheathed dagger from its display stand.

Illaria drew the blade, revealing the rippling waves of its beautiful damascene steel, and set the scabbard back in the embrace of the stand's dark wooden arms. She'd been raised to respect weapons, to both appreciate their beauty and understand the terrible harm they could do. It was why her father trusted her with such things in her chambers.

She approached the cunning orange foe, dagger in hand, and placed the razor edge against its silken flesh. The Princess braced herself. Then she slid the lethal steel across it in a sharp, deft, precise motion.

The ribbon, in its unfathomable coils and curls, remained intact and undamaged. But the strike hadn't been without its effects. An amethyst mounted on the nearest of the box's gold sides, among a cluster of other precious stones, flashed. Holographic light expanded from the gem, and resolved itself into the image of a blazing star the size of the girl's palm.

"A good attempt, Illaria," said a woman's voice.

It was that of her father's advisor. The lady's duties kept her away from Sian that day, but she hadn't forgotten the Princess' birthday. A maidservant had entered Illaria's chambers to place the ornate box upon the pedestal, and explain that she was doing so at Mistress Sun's behest.

"Perhaps Wu taught you about the Gordian knot?" the recording continued. "But this is a test for a future empress, not a brash conqueror from ancient Macedon. Patience and contemplation are your watchwords, as they should be for any wise ruler."

The hologram vanished. Illaria sighed. But there was a smile on her lips as she exhaled. She returned the dagger to its resting place, and focused her gaze on the ribbon once more.

Its loops and twists were labyrinthine, a befuddling arrangement which even the most dexterous of serpents would have envied. The Princess' young bright eyes roamed across it, trying to fathom the unfathomable and understand the orange ribbon's nature. There were traps for the unwary. She discerned several mischievous places where a tempting pull would only have served to bind the knot tighter -- perhaps too tight for mere fingers, however agile, to unravel. These she noted in turn, cataloging them in her mind before passing them by.

The intensity of her concentration rendered time a fluttering, imperceptible thing. She didn't notice the hour slip from future to present to past, minute by minute. Nor did she detect the soft footsteps which approached the doorway, or become aware of the figure who then watched her from the open portal -- silent and unmoving as the remainder of that hour elapsed. Orange silk was her universe, and nothing beyond it could command her attention.

At last she made her move. Slender little fingers found their places and began their work. It wasn't a swift battle, a duel settled with a single flash of a sword or muzzle. Rather she was a wrestler grappling with an opponent who stood firm and all but unyielding, giving ground only by the tiniest fractions of inches -- and being ever ready to capitalize on the slightest mistake. The Princess knew that a single misstep, an error wrought by overeagerness or careless miscalculation, would tighten the silken coils and force her to use tweezers in lieu of her fingers. So she allowed her mind to lead, not her hands. Contemplation before action. But when action came, it was neat and decisive.

The orange ribbon succumbed to her ministrations. Bit by bit, it unraveled. The once impregnable fortress drifted away on a silken stream. And at last she pulled it free. The box was hers, its mouth unsealed. Illaria opened it.

A jade dragon lay within, staring up at her from the exquisite detail of its smiling face.

"Happy birthday, Illaria," Mistress Sun's voice said. There was a moment's pause, before it continued. "You must be so proud, Your Majesty."

The Princess frowned, puzzled by the recording. Then another voice spoke, this one from behind her.

"I am."

She turned to doorway, where her father stood. And though she hadn't been aware of his presence until then, Illaria somehow sensed that he'd been watching for a long time -- that a man whose day was claimed by a myriad duties of state, who often sacrificed almost every waking minute to the empire he ruled, had spent perhaps a full hour simply looking on as his daughter strove and triumphed. Pride welled in her breast. Pride and warmth.

He stepped towards her and took her in his arms. His beard tickled her face as he hugged her.

"How did she know you'd be there?" Illaria asked. She glanced over at the box, as though expecting its recorded voice to answer.

"Mistress Sun knows many things," the Emperor replied.

He carried her to an armchair. There they sat, the young Princess in her father's lap. Whatever grave matters had claimed his attention before his arrival, and would again once he departed, they were set aside. The galaxy and its million troubles faded away, leaving a father to speak with his daughter of ancient heroes and glories, of magnificent deeds which had been wrought long ago by those of their illustrious lineage. And of the empire she'd been born to one day rule.