4/398
♫ From the Bön Scriptures ♫
4/398
I enter the corridor leading into the labyrinth that I will never leave again. Daedalus stands behind me, smiling proudly. He has spent months constructing it and outfitting it for me. He calls it a “Palace.”
“I will die of thirst and starvation,” I say. Daedalus shakes his head. “You won’t. Down in the basement of the palace, there is a spring. There are courtyards with numerous fruit trees, and there is a damp vault where countless mushrooms grow.”
“I will be lonely,” I predict gloomily. Daedalus counters: “We will send you entertainment from time to time. Young men and maidens from our vassal states, whom you can treat however you wish.”
“Meat,” I say. “As you wish,” says Daedalus.
“I will long for freedom and go mad.” Daedalus seems unimpressed. “You won’t. The Palace will seem infinitely vast to you; you will constantly discover new rooms and encounter new wonders. I have ensured that you can create a structured daily routine with everything you like to do. It begins with a large, soft bed of straw, next to which I have placed a small bell. As soon as the sun rises, a mechanism will strike it. The chiming will grow louder and louder until you finally get up.” When he hears me groan, he adds: “However, if you would like to sleep a little longer, you can use a small lever to make the mechanism stop the bell from striking for a while.”
“Inventions…” I say dismissively. “That is all you can do: think up mechanisms and devices. But what about people and their feelings?”
“You are not a human. At least, not quite.” But when he notices tears welling in my eyes, he hastens to add: “But I have thought of your feelings too, my dear fellow.”
I look at him hopefully as he stands there in the entrance to the corridor, the blue sky and the sea behind him—the freedom I am now permitted to see, smell, and hear for the last time.
“I know,” says Daedalus, “that the kingship should rightfully be yours. That a… cruel fate denies you your inheritance and birthright.” He forgets to mention that he was the one who brought this fate about. Nonetheless, I listen expectantly to his words. What has he intended for me?
“In your Palace,” he says, “you will find a balcony that opens onto a large square. There, you can present yourself and give speeches. And when you pull the wooden handle you see next to the railing, your people will applaud and cheer you from many throats.”
“My people?”
“That is what it will sound like, yes. I spent a long time tinkering with the hydraulics.”
I sag. Another mechanical device, a decoy like the one my father, the bull, fell for.
“You’ll like it. I’m quite sure of it!”
Daedalus smiles at me encouragingly. He takes a step back into the open air and throws a lever. With a grinding sound, a section of the wall descends to seal the corridor. I could mark this spot—carve a cross into the wall with my horns so I can find it and destroy it later. But I am certain Daedalus has thought of that, too, and devised ways and means to prevent me, to confuse and fool me, making me a prisoner in this Palace forever.
He bends down to wave at me one last time from under the slowly descending wall.
“Don’t be sad! You know…” he calls out.
“It’s for the best for everyone,” I repeat obediently, as he has always drilled into me, “including me.” Daedalus nods, smiling. Then he is gone behind the wall. With a thud, it seals the corridor as if it had always been there.
I feel a bit dejected. Finally, I turn around and enter my Palace in search of the balcony.
Daedalus: 