The King in his chamber had become bored with his toys. Three mice he had as concubines: blind pale things, born into such servitude and knowing nothing else but their master and his castle walls. He found them understandably quite ignorant, if droll.

He sometimes would remind them, "The sky above is the air that we breathe and it is full of such monstrous and dreadful things. Creatures that could swallow up mice like yourselves whole in one bite!" And they would shudder and bristle and squirm amongst themselves as though mice newly born, blind and wormy.

"No! Keep us and save us, Lord and Master!" They would wail and lick at his knuckles.

In truth the sky was always clear of danger, and in truth the "King" was but a Baron, though he kept the three siblings and saved them just the same. They never set paw outside the thick stone walls of his keep, and the Baron saw to their upbringing personally. His transgressions were never understood by them as such, simply the cruel and loving way of their world.

"Lo! To me, my pets!" He proclaimed one day, having planned something new for them. Recently, he began to tire of their endlessly soft minds.

"I have a surprise for you." Quickly from their corners they scrambled and splayed about his feet, ears up, jingling fanciful masks which hid their deformities. He shushed them with pats on the head.

"Oh Lord and Master, is it cake?" Asked the sister, licking her lips. He sounded jolly and jolly usually meant food and kind words; the King could be so wonderfully sweet at times. Her brothers both sniffed the air.

"No, he has brought us something else. Something strange," said one, the youngest by mere minutes.

"It is true, I can smell it in the hall." With that the three mice swayed and wavered as vipers, turning their noses this way and that.

The Baron chuckled, "Indeed, it is very strange, my pets. From the furthest and most dangerous reaches of my empire I have brought you all a gift." They reached for each other and clasped hands, giggling and grinning. The Baron clapped his hands twice to signal the servants.

They entered with guards leading a shackled and glum bull elephant. Captured as a prisoner of war by the Baron's own men, he was promptly rendered mute and would soon be castrated. This was preparation for his delivery as a eunuch to the true Emperor in tribute, along with the plundered treasures of his conquered homeland by the ever spreading empire. However, before that fate the Baron planned to use the bull for his own pleasure; specifically to open the minds of his hapless charges.

"Stand it here in the center of the room," he ordered and dismissed the servants. The guards remained, but he did not fear the prisoner. The bull was helpless: his legs were chained and his hands locked securely behind his back. Besides, the Baron had prior promised him his freedom if he cooperated, and the guards were easily summoned if he rebelled. Freedom meant a return home and a search for family.

Taking a seat, the Baron steepled his fingertips, "Well now, here it is... can you tell me what you think it is?"

The mice hesitated at first, hearing the low breath of the bull and sniffing its odd musk. The rattling chains also made them uneasy. Though with their master's prompting they approached the prisoner cautiously, hands outstretched, each finding a different part of the elephant's body.

"Oh!" exclaimed the sister, sliding her paws along the bull's tusk. She tapped at the ivory, "Well, I feel a curious spear, so smooth and curved." She blushed inside her ears and lashed her tail about. Turning, she managed a smile at where she knew the Baron to be, "Lord and Master, is this to go where I think it does? I am reminded of the other toys you have given us." The heft of the tusk alarmed her imagination.

"Nonsense!" stated her elder brother, who had found the prisoner's broad back, gnarled and thick with leathery skin, "I feel no spear but clearly a wall, as wide as I can reach and just as high." It reminded him of the padded pit they were sometimes placed into when they misbehaved. It reminded him of this, but he did not say this aloud.

"Brother, sister, you both are mistaken," said the youngest, "This is not a spear, nor a wall, but a whip!" He had grasped the elephant's tail and now held it as a crop, swishing the brush tip in the air. The mouse's fur bristled visibly and he shuddered with both memory and anticipation.

The Baron was quite amused by their fumbling around the captive in this way. At his suggestion and instruction, they soon found the shape of the whole beast and learned the proper names for each part. He even had them reach into the bull's mouth and feel the wet stump of his cut tongue, still swollen and healing.

The night passed slowly with much effort for all involved. Seeing the elephant with his mice did please the Baron greatly and hearing his mice with the elephant pleased him even more. Quickly, the bull soon realized that the mice lived in an endless web of lies. Though unshackled, they clearly felt themselves as bound and as captive as he was. They just could not see it for themselves and under the leering, ever watchful eyes of the Baron, the bull had no way to tell them the truth - except for one.

When lovingly coupled, elephants can forego the usual word of mouth and whisper affections through the trunk in a rustling language meant only for the ears of those so mated. It is not the trumpeting blast that shakes the trees; in fact it barely carries beyond the curling snout. It is private and known among the elephants as the the Lover's Voice. It is known to certain outsiders as well, but not to the Baron. Though he presented himself to his mice as the all-knowing, worldly King of all Things, he had no inkling of the Lover's Voice. The bull had hardly thought to use it (being far from home and his proper mate) because it was a profoundly intimate and almost sacred thing. True enough his tongue was cut out, but in order to perform, he made himself think of his mate. Passion is passion, and so then the Voice came easily. He found himself murmuring despite himself, low and raspy and rich through his trunk. Only the mouse in his arms heard him, though she seemed at first not to. The bull coiled his trunk about her neck tightly and spoke directly into her ear. He changed nothing else since the Baron was watching. The Baron watched and chased his own release with a wicked grin.

"I am speaking to you, small one, as my people do with those we love and trust." The bull said this into her ear, urgent and heated. She heard his rustling speech over her own cries. "I am forced as you are forced, and I am truly sorry. This man would kill us all if he knew, for he is cruel and petty. I have listened to how he talks to you and your brothers and he lies. He is no king. The sun does not hate you because of your eyes. The sky is not full of demons waiting to eat you..."

He told her more, he told her about the world outside, about his home and his family. He told her truths to counter the lies he had heard the Baron saying. And when he ran out of truths, he filled her mind with other things; with poetry and distraction. The bull was able to speak with the mice, each in turn that long night, and he knew that they heard him.

"I hope you enjoyed your last night as a free man," cackled the Baron, some time near dawn, spent and finished. And though he roared and struggled, the bull could not overcome the guards that swarmed him and carried him away to his fate. The Baron then gathered his playthings about him in bed and slept soundly, looking forward to traveling to see the Emperor, triumphant with his army and generals and glory.

Wordlessly, and as one, the mice strangled him in his sleep; six blind hands at his throat. They were found the next day shortly after the murder was discovered. They had not gotten far from the keep. The three of them were in the grasses by the moat: naked, maskless, in the sun and in a circle feeling each other's empty eyes. Laughing.