The captain returned with a basin full of fresh water. Auntie Wide took out the princess’s bath soap and touched it to the water. With a pop, the surface of the water became full of foam, and some of the foam spilled out the sides.
The captain stared at the soap foam. He turned to Auntie Wide. “May I see the soap?”
Auntie Wide carefully handed over the pure white bath soap. “Hold on tight! It’s lighter than a feather. If you let go, it will float away.”
The captain hefted the soap; it seemed to have no weight at all, like holding a white shadow. “This really is from He’ershingenmosiken! I’m amazed we still have any.”
“I think only two bars are left in the entire palace—no, the entire kingdom. I saved one from years back for the princess. Anything from He’ershingenmosiken is superior, but fewer and fewer of these objects are left.” Auntie Wide took back the bath soap and carefully packed it away.
As she watched the white foam, the princess recalled her life in the palace for the first time since the start of the journey. Every night, in her elegant, ornate bathing suite, the bathing pool was covered by foam just like this. In the light of the various lamps, the bubbles sometimes looked pure white like a cloud pulled from the sky, sometimes iridescent, like a pile of jewels. As she soaked among the bubbles, she felt her body turn soft as noodles, felt herself melt
After the princess washed her face with the He’ershingenmosiken bath soap, her face felt relaxed and soft, but her body remained tired and stiff. After a quick supper, she lay down on the beach—she tried lying on a blanket first, then realized that it was more comfortable to sleep on the sand directly. The sand retained some of the heat of the day, and made her feel as though she were being held in a warm, giant palm. The rhythmic surf was like a lullaby, and she soon fell asleep.
After an unknown amount of time, Princess Dewdrop was awakened by a ringing bell. The sound came from the black umbrella spinning overhead. Auntie Wide was asleep next to her, and the umbrella-spinner was the captain of the guards. The torches had already been extinguished, and night covered all like black velvet. The captain appeared as a cutout against the starry sky, and only his armor reflected the starlight, while his hair swayed with the wind. The umbrella spun steadily in his hand, a tiny dome that blocked out half the sky. She couldn’t see his eyes, but could feel them and innumerable twinkling stars gazing at her.
“Sorry, Princess. I spun a bit too fast,” whispered the captain.
“What time is it?”
“After midnight.”
“We seem to be farther away from the sea.”
“It’s low tide. Tomorrow morning, the water will come back.”
“Have you been taking turns with the umbrella?”
“Yes. Auntie Wide did it for the whole day. I’ll relieve her by doing it a bit longer tonight.”
“But you drove all day. Let me do it. You get some rest.”
Princess Dewdrop was a bit surprised by her own words. As far as she could remember, this was the first time she had ever thought about the needs of others.
“No, Princess. Your hands are smooth and delicate; spinning the umbrella will give you blisters. Let me keep on doing this.”
“What is your name?”
Though they’d traveled together for a whole day, she hadn’t thought to ask for his name until now. Before, she would have thought this perfectly normal. But now she felt a bit guilty.
“I’m called Long-Sail.”
“Sail?” The princess looked around. They were camped by the side of a large boat on the beach, which shielded them from the wind. Unlike the other boats stranded on the beach, this one still had its mast, like a sword pointing at the stars. “Isn’t a sail the cloth hung on the long stick?”
“Yes. That’s called a mast. The sail hangs from it so that the wind can push the boat.”
“Sails are so white on the sea. Very pretty.”
“Only in pictures. Real sails are not so white.”
“I believe you are from He’ershingenmosiken?”
“That’s right. My father was an architect in He’ershingenmosiken. He brought our whole family here when I was little.”
“Do you ever think about going home—I mean, to He’ershingenmosiken?”
“Not really. I was so young when I left that I don’t remember much of it. And even if I do remember, it’s useless. I can never leave the Storyless Kingdom.”
The waves crashed against the beach some distance away, as though repeating Long-Sail’s words again and again:
“Tell me some stories about the outside world. I don’t know anything,” said the princess.
