else did the water show you?”
“By the canal’s edge, I saw a woman gazing at her reflection and weeping. She whispered again and again that she had been deceived, though she did not say by whom. Her sorrow was so profound that it seemed even the water shared in her grief.”
The Queen paused, her eyes drifting toward the town below.
“Sorrow often ties tight knots within the soul, but with patience and effort, even the most tangled threads can be unwound. Thank you, Swan. Your observations are important. Stay with me a little longer – soon, the others will arrive.”
The brief silence was broken by a soft purr rising from the staircase. All eyes turned toward the stairs, and the Queen of the Night allowed herself the faintest smile.
Graceful and nearly soundless, the Cat emerged from the shadows. Her yellow eyes gleamed in the moonlight as she padded across the stone floor, each step fluid and deliberate. She settled herself in the shadow of a column, curling her tail around her paws.
“Here I am, my Queen. I’m sure you were waiting just for me,” the Cat purred with satisfaction.
Before the Queen could respond, a soft rustling sound came from beside the throne. Out of the shadows peeked the Rat, her clever eyes glinting mischievously.
“Looks like we arrived almost at the same time,” the Rat remarked.
“No, I was first,” the Cat retorted.
“Ah, Cat, of course, you’re always first. But in my experience, haste is rarely an advantage.”
“And in my experience, whoever arrives first brings their news in a timely manner,” the Cat sniffed.
“News or exaggerations, my dear?” the Rat replied with a sly grin.
The Queen of the Night, suppressing an amused smile, raised her hand, and the two immediately fell silent.
“Enough, my clever ones. Your rivalry amuses me, but you both know how much I value each of you. Now, tell me what you have learned.”
The Cat straightened up, lifting her head proudly as though preparing to say something particularly important:
“Today, I paid a little visit to the baker’s house. He pretends to be generous and kind, but in truth, he’s hiding money to avoid paying the boy who’s been hauling water for his dough for a whole month.
But not everything was bleak. I overheard two craftsmen talking about how to help an orphan get a job. They want to teach him a trade so he can earn a living for himself.”
The Cat ended her report with a slight dip of her head – a gesture of respect.
The Rat, seizing the pause, began to speak with a hint of playful mockery:
“While the Cat prowled across rooftops, I ventured into the places where secrets truly reside. In the cellar of a shop, I overheard a merchant plotting to deceive his customers by mixing flour with bran so he could sell it for a higher price.”
She paused, leaning forward slightly.
“But in that same cellar, I saw an old miller set aside a small portion of grain to give to his poor neighbor, a woman who had completely run out of food.”
“Both of you, as always, have brought me important news,” said the Queen. “I value your insight and diligence. Follow your natures, but remember that you both serve the same purpose.”
“And where is the White Owl?” the Queen asked. “Has anyone seen her?”
“My Queen,” the Cat replied, “I saw her on a quiet street at the town’s edge. She was perched by the window of a small house, speaking to a boy who held a violin in his hands.”
A moment later, the White Owl appeared in the tall window of the Tower. She landed swiftly on the edge of the windowsill, slipping slightly on the smooth stone. Her white feathers were slightly ruffled from her rush, and her breathing was uneven. Her large amber eyes darted across the hall quickly.
“Forgive me, my Queen,” she said. “I am a little late.”
“You always arrive at the perfect time, Owl. But tonight, I see you had a special reason,” the Queen reassured her. “Tell me what happened.”
The White Owl smoothed down her ruffled feathers, then perched on a step near the throne, tilting her head in respectful acknowledgment.
“I was delayed because, as I flew over the town, I saw a boy sitting by the window of a small house. Late at night, when all the other children were fast asleep, he played the violin. The melody carried sorrow, yet within it, I could hear a glimmer of hope. I felt compelled to speak with him.”
“And what did he tell you?” the Queen asked.
All the servants drew closer, settling near the throne so as not to miss a single word.
The Owl continued her story:
“I perched on one of the shutters and asked him, ‘What is your name, boy?’”
“My name is Dany.”
“Why are you playing the violin while the children in other houses are long asleep? Don’t you wish to rest and dream like them?”
Dany was silent for a moment before he replied:
“Resting is easy when you have hope that tomorrow will be better than today. For me, that hope lives here – in this music. I play because I believe that miracles are possible.”
The Owl leaned closer to Dany, her amber eyes glimmering with curiosity as she tilted her head.
“But why do you play every evening, Dany? What makes you believe so deeply in the magic of this tune?”
Dany’s voice grew softer:
“Once, an old organ grinder told me that if I played the Moon Melody, my illness would fade away. He appeared outside our house on the hardest day of our life…”
“What kind of day was that?”
Dany lowered his gaze to the violin, thinking for a moment.
“It was the day when we had almost no food left. My mother worked from dawn to dusk just to feed us. And then that organ grinder – so old, so frail – came to our house and asked for water. I wanted to help, but…” Dany sighed. “…but I couldn’t. My legs won’t obey me.”
“And what did you do?”
“I called my mother. She brought him water and gave him the last piece of bread we had. The organ grinder looked at her and said that kindness always comes back to those who share it with others. Then he looked at me – right into my eyes, as if he knew my fate. He told me that if I played the Moon Melody, one day I would stand up and walk again.”
“Your mother must be an extraordinary person!”
“She is the kindest person in the world! Every day, I see how hard she works for me. I want to get better, not just for myself, but for her. I dream that one day I’ll stand up, go to the market, and bring her a loaf of bread – bigger than any she’s ever seen.”
“You play for her?”
“For her and for hope. When I play, I feel as if I’m already standing. I imagine us walking through the town together, holding hands. That I’m no longer a burden, but someone who can help her.”
“You know, Dany, your music doesn’t just touch people – it stirs the very Moon itself, making it shine brighter when you play.”
“Really?” Dany asked, a faint smile appearing on his face.
“Really. I’ve heard many melodies, but yours is special. And you know, the Queen of the Night loves music too. I’ll tell her about you.”
“Do