A Princess of Landover (21 page)

“What’s happening, Pinch?” he asked the little man, arching an eyebrow at Mistaya. “Is there a problem?”

“This girl wants in, and you know the rules as well as I do. We are not to allow entry to anyone, no matter—”

“Yes, I know the rules. But this is my sister, Ellice. She’s here at my invitation.” He stepped forward quickly and took hold of an astonished Mistaya’s hands. “Hello, Ellice. I gather you got my letter and decided to come help us with the work. I’m very happy to see you.”

He bent forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“I’m Thom,”
he whispered in her ear as he pulled away.
“Play along.”

“You never mentioned a sister,” Pinch declared accusingly.

“You never asked,” the boy answered quickly. “No one ever asks about my family, so I don’t talk about them. But I have one, you know. Everyone has a family.”

Pinch did not look satisfied. “Well, no one said you could invite her to come here,” he pressed. “The rules are the rules. No one is allowed into the building. No one is to be given shelter or fed or encouraged in any way to try to enter or to remain at Libiris. His Eminence has made it quite clear.”

“His Eminence has also made it quite clear, on more occasions than I care to think about, that we need someone else to help with the work. You and I and the Throg Monkeys are not enough to accomplish what is needed. You’ve heard him say that, haven’t you?”

“Well, yes, I’ve heard him, but—”

“Have you done anything to try to satisfy his complaints?” the boy interrupted quickly.

Pinch frowned. “No, I—”

“Then please don’t criticize those of us who have. There is a reason I am chief sorter and chronicler and you are an overseer. Now let’s go inside and get my sister warm.”

Still holding Mistaya’s hand, the boy pushed his way past a reluctant Pinch into the doorway. “Wait!” Mistaya exclaimed. “What about my friends? My escort,” she corrected quickly. “They must come inside, too.”

Pinch stepped quickly to block their way. “I draw the line here!” he declared, glaring at the G’home Gnomes. “These two were not invited to come and are not fit in any case to do the work. They must remain here!”

Thom nodded reluctantly, giving Mistaya a look. “I’m afraid that’s so. But there are stables on the south side of the building where they can get out of the weather and sleep the night. I will see that they have something to eat.”

“Humpphh,” Pinch growled disagreeably. “Very well. But they must leave here tomorrow at first light.”

Poggwydd and Shoopdiesel looked very put upon but showed no inclination to argue. Recognizing that Thom had pushed the matter of gaining entry as far as he could, Mistaya nodded. “Good night, my faithful friends,” she called over to the Gnomes, not without some small warmth. “Thanks for bringing me. I will see you in the morning to bid you farewell.”

She followed Thom through the small door and heard Pinch close and bar it tightly behind her.

B
efore the unfriendly little man could offer further thoughts on the matter of Mistaya’s arrival and admittance, Thom led her through a small, tunnel-like entry into a much larger anteroom, its walls lined with benches and hooks for hanging coats and wraps, high ceiling intricately carved with figures that in the near darkness she could not make out. Stray lights burned here and there, but mostly the room was draped in shadows. The thick smell of must and stale air filled her nostrils, and a chill had settled with a proprietary sense of entitlement.

Thom led and Mistaya followed. The wood floors creaked as they walked down the length of the room, which was twice as long as it was wide. A high desk, elevated on a platform to allow whoever manned it to look down on whoever sought admittance, ran across the far end of the room, effectively barring entry to whatever lay beyond a pair of massive wooden doors set in the wall behind. The desk was old and splintering at its joints, and there were spiders spinning their webs where space permitted. She assumed there were spiders elsewhere in the room, as well, in places she couldn’t clearly see. She looked down as they approached the desk and noticed faint clouds of dust rising in small puffs with each footfall.

“Don’t mind that,” Thom advised cheerfully. “This room doesn’t get much use.”

She stepped close to him. “Why did you say that I was your …”

His face darkened as he quickly put a finger to his lips and shook his head. He pointed to his ears and then made a sweeping gesture toward the walls.
“Later,” he
whispered.

He led her around one end of the desk, but did not try using the larger portals, choosing instead a small door at one corner of the room, a door so unobtrusive that she might have missed it completely if he had not taken her right up to it. He grasped a handle that was all but invisible, pulled the door open, and led her through. A hallway beyond wound off into a darkness that would have been complete if not for the handheld lamp he suddenly produced and fired with his touch, something she recognized immediately as
magic. She arched one eyebrow at him, thinking as she did so that there was more to this place and its inhabitants that she had first thought.

They passed a number of doors, all of them closed, but Thom finally stopped before one and opened it. Inside was a very small, unadorned bedroom, dark and windowless, with a bed, an ancient cedar chest, a small set of shelves, and a table and chairs. There were no decorations hanging from the walls, no rugs on the floors, and no hints of color anywhere. Mistaya looked around in dismay.

“We can talk here,” the boy said, giving her a quick, reassuring smile. “They don’t listen here. My room, maybe. But not here. These are the servants’ quarters, the rooms set aside for the keepers of the stacks and the files, and there haven’t been any of those for decades. There’s only Pinch and the Throg Monkeys and me. And His Eminence, of course. Sit with me.”

He seated himself on the edge of the bed and motioned for her to join him. She did so, feeling braver now, more sure of herself than when she had faced Pinch alone. She didn’t know who this boy was, but she didn’t think he meant her any harm.

“Why did you help me back there?” she asked him. “Why did you tell that little man—Pinch, you called him—that I was your sister?”

He shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I didn’t plan it. I saw you, and I just decided to help you out.” He shook his head. “I get bored here. There’s no one to talk to. I thought anyone traveling with two G’home Gnomes out here in the middle of nowhere would have stories to tell.”

“Well, I might not want those stories told just now. Will you make me go if I don’t choose to tell them?”

“Not if you tell me some others. I just want someone to talk to. I’ve been here for almost three years now. I never go anywhere, and no one ever comes to visit. You saw how you were greeted. It’s the same with everyone else. Not that there’s much reason for anyone to want to come here, anyway.” He paused. “Do you know where you are?”

“Of course,” she declared at once. “This is Libiris.”

“Then why did you come here? Surely, you didn’t come by accident?”

She hesitated. “Didn’t you just tell me no one ever comes here on purpose?”

He cocked his head. “I did.”

“Well, there you are. I got lost. A mistake.” She waved one hand dismissively, hoping he believed her. “But what are you doing here?” she followed up quickly. “What keeps you?”

“I’m an apprentice to His Eminence, in service to Libiris.”

She pursed her lips. “You keep mentioning that name. His Eminence. Is he some sort of ruler or Lord? How did you become apprenticed to him?”

He frowned. “It’s kind of complicated. Can we talk about it in the morning? You look tired.”

Again, she hesitated, this time because she sensed he was hiding something. But she really didn’t have any right to demand answers to her questions if she wasn’t prepared to answer his. Even if it irritated her.

She managed a smile. “I
am
tired and I
do
need to sleep. But can I have something to eat first?”

Thom stood up at once, unfolding his angular frame. “We’ll go down to the kitchen. Then I’ll take something out to your friends. I still think it’s funny that you are traveling with G’home Gnomes.”

She couldn’t argue with that. But there was much about her life that she found odd of late, so the Gnomes in particular didn’t stand out. She stood up with him. “Would you like me to tell you something about those Gnomes?” she asked him.

He nodded eagerly. “I would, indeed.”

Together they went off to find the kitchen.

HIS EMINENCE

T
he trouble with being raised a Princess of Landover is that it makes it very hard to settle for anything less. Sterling Silver, for example, was more than her home; it was her caregiver. A sentient being, it knew instinctively what she needed and provided it for her. A bed that was just right for her size and shape, suitably warmed each night, floors that were heated to order, food prepared and delivered, air that was sweet smelling and always fresh, a channeling of sounds that were pleasing and comforting, clothes to wear, and beautiful things with which to decorate her rooms—these were just a few of the comforts she had been provided, always without her asking. The castle was magical and capable of magical acts, and it had looked after the Kings of Landover and their families since its inception.

Nor was her transition from the castle to the Carrington Women’s Preparatory School particularly difficult. She was no longer able to rely on the buildings for special service and care, but if she wanted clean clothes to wear and fresh sheets to sleep on and good food to eat, there were people who could provide them all. And there were a plethora of advantages that even Landover lacked. Her father’s world was technologically advanced, so there were movies and televisions and radios and cell phones and computers and vast numbers of retail stores and malls to enjoy. There were airplanes and automobiles and
trains and buses for transportation. There were cities that were vast in size and filled with exciting places, some of them actually educational. All in all, it was a fair trade-off for what she was leaving behind in Landover, and she had found it an exhilarating experience (when she allowed herself to do so).

There was nothing at all exhilarating about Libiris. In addition to being dark and dank and cold, it felt like a tomb for the dead. The air was stale and smelled of decay. Her room was a smaller version of the larger structure—close, cold, and dead feeling. Her bed was miserable and her pillow, a rock. She found no clean clothes to wear, no water to drink or bathe in, no toilet facilities of any sort, and no windows to let in fresh air. The silence of her surroundings was like a great weight pressing down on her. Now and then, she would hear a small noise from somewhere far away, but she could never identify it and be reassured that it meant the presence of other living creatures.

She made it through the night, surviving an uneasy sleep, still dressed in the clothes she had worn coming in. She woke to blackness, but when she arose from the bed a tiny light flickered on over the door. More magic, she noted. She found the door unlocked and walked out into the hall. Tiny lights flickered on up and down its length. She wondered where Thom might be sleeping, suddenly anxious for his company. But there was no way of knowing how to find him. She walked the hall from end to end, stopping at each door and listening to the silence beyond as if it might reveal some secret. She did not venture beyond the hall once it turned down other corridors, afraid she would become lost in what appeared to be something of a labyrinth.

Finally, she returned to her room and sat down on her bed to wait. Idly, she began sorting through the few possessions she had brought, laying them out on the bed for study. At the bottom of her duffel, beneath the few items of clothing, she found the compass, the virtual map ring, and the book on wizard spells that Questor had given her. Below all that was the fairy stone she had brought as a present for her grandfather and had failed to give to him. She had
carried it all that way and forgotten she had it. She held it in the palm of her hand, feeling immeasurably sad. She found herself thinking about all the things she had taken for granted in her life before this, the way you do when you are feeling sorry for yourself and wondering what has brought you to your present state. But thinking of it didn’t make her feel any better, so she shoved such thoughts out of her mind and began concentrating instead on what it was she intended to do with herself now that she was here.