A Princess of Landover (7 page)

Questor looked horrified. It was hard to tell with Abernathy; a dog pretty much always looks like a dog, even if it’s a soft-coated wheaten terrier. “Oh, no, High Lord!” the former exclaimed in dismay. “We have no intention of trying to correct you on your efforts at raising Mistaya! We wouldn’t think of such a thing—”

“We might
indeed
think of such a thing,” Abernathy interrupted. He glared at Questor. “But that isn’t why we are here. As you may eventually find out, I hope.”

Questor glared back. “Perhaps you would rather handle this than I? Would that suit you better?”

Abernathy perked up his ears. “It might. Shall I?”

“Oh, please do.”

Ben hoped the vaudeville act was finished, but he held his tongue and waited patiently.

Abernathy faced him. “High Lord, Questor and I are well aware of the fact that Mistaya’s return is a disappointment and an irritation. We are also aware of what she thinks is going to happen, which is that things will go back to the way they were before she left. You, on the other hand, would like to find some more productive use of her time, preferably something educational and perhaps a bit challenging?”

He made it a question, even though the force of his words made it clear he was certain of his understanding of the situation. “Go on,” Ben urged, nodding.

“We know that she must be disciplined, High Lord,” Questor broke in, forgetting that he had ceded this territory to Abernathy only moments earlier. “She is a willful and rebellious child, perhaps because she is smart and beautiful and charming.”

“Perhaps because she is your daughter, as well,” Abernathy muttered, and gave Ben a knowing look. “But to continue.” He turned the full weight of his liquid brown, doggy gaze on Questor to silence him. “What is needed is a lesson that will teach Mistaya at least something of what you had hoped Carrington would provide. Study with Questor and myself, however educational, has its limits, and I think we may have reached them.”

Questor bristled. “That is entirely wrong—”

“Questor, please!” Abernathy bared his teeth at the other, then turned to Ben anew. “So we have an idea that might accomplish this,” he finished.

Ben was almost afraid to hear what it was, but there was probably no avoiding it. He took a deep breath. “Which is?”

“Libiris,” Questor Thews announced proudly.

Ben nodded. “Libiris,” he repeated.

“The royal library.”

“We have one?”

“We do.”

“Libiris,” Ben repeated again. “Unless I am mistaken, I have never heard mention of it.” He sat back, mildly confused. “Why is that?”

“My fault entirely,” Abernathy declared.

“His fault entirely,” Questor Thews agreed. He looked pleased with the pronouncement. “He never told you about it, did he?”

“Nor did you,” the other pointed out.

“Nor did anyone else.” Ben leaned forward again, irritated despite himself. “How is it we have a royal library I know nothing about? As King of Landover, aren’t I supposed to know these things? Where in the heck is it?”

“Oh, well, that is a long story, High Lord.” Questor looked saddened by the fact, as if the length were an unfortunate accident.

“Perhaps you can shorten it up for me.” Ben smiled. “Perhaps you can do that right now, while I’m still smiling in hopes that all this has something to do with my daughter.”

Questor cleared his throat anew. “Long, long ago, in a time far, far away, there was a King—”

Abernathy’s sudden bark cut him off midsentence. The scribe shook his head. “Now look what you’ve made me do, wizard! You made me bark, and you know how I hate that.” He gestured at the other in annoyance. “Let me tell it or we’ll be here all day!”

He faced Ben. “Libiris was founded by the old King, the one who ruled for so long before you, a man more enlightened than his son or the rabble of pretenders who came afterward. He built it to house his books and those of the Lords of the Greensward and others who had libraries of their own. It was his hope that making the books available to the entire population of Landover would foster a greater interest in reading, something that had been sorely lacking. It was a good idea, and it worked for a while. But complications arose, and the King grew old and lost interest, and the entire effort simply bogged down. Eventually, Libiris ceased to function in any meaningful way. It has, in point of fact, fallen into a sad state of neglect. Enough so that it has ceased to function at all.”

“But you’ve never even spoken about it?” Ben pressed.

“There were other, more important concerns for much of the time during our early years together, High Lord. Such as trying to keep you alive. You may recall that part of your life? Since the birth of Mistaya, I simply haven’t given the matter any thought. There hasn’t been any reason to. Libiris has been closed now for many years.”

He shrugged. “I should have said something before, but it just didn’t seem important enough to bring up.”

Ben found this odd, but given the state of things in Landover, even after almost twenty years of his presence as King, he wasn’t entirely surprised. “Well, now that you have brought it up, what does any of it have to do with Mistaya?”

Questor stepped forward, taking command once more. “It was our thought that perhaps you should send Mistaya to Libiris with instructions to reorganize and reopen it. Such an effort fits well with your other programs regarding education through community service, and it seems to us, Abernathy and me, a perfect project for a young lady of Mistaya’s capabilities.”

Ben thought about it. “You think I should send her there to find out what’s needed and then to undertake repairs and rehabilitation of the books and fixtures and buildings? A fifteen-year-old girl?”

Questor and Abernathy exchanged a quick glance. “I wouldn’t call her that to her face,” Abernathy declared quietly. “And yes, I think she is more than equal to the task. Don’t you, High Lord?” He paused. “It would be a mistake to underestimate her capabilities.”

“It would provide an educational and challenging task for her,” Questor added. “One that would require working with others and finding middle ground for agreement on how to do things. Just the sort of project I think you had in mind when you talked to her earlier.”

Well, it wasn’t what he’d had in mind at all. He hadn’t really had any project in mind, although thinking it through now he had to agree that the general idea was sound. A project of this sort—the reorganization of a library—would keep Mistaya occupied and involved
in something meaningful while she grew up a little more and perhaps rethought her decision to leave Carrington. This whole business about having a royal library came as a surprise, but now that he knew about it there was no reason not to do something constructive with it.

“You wouldn’t send her there alone, would you?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” Questor declared. “I would go with her. Abernathy could go, as well. Later, once she’s taken the measure of the place, we’ll send for craftsmen and laborers. But it would be her vision, her project, from start to finish.”

Ben thought about it some more. “All right. Let me talk to Willow. Then we’ll make a decision. But I think you might be on to something.”

He regretted the words almost before they had left his mouth, but once spoken there was no taking them back. He would just have to hope that this time was different from some of the others.

Beaming in unison, the wizard and the scribe bowed and left the chamber.

O
nce outside, the door closed tightly behind them, Abernathy turned to Questor. “Perhaps we should have told him the rest,” he whispered.

The court wizard shook his head, mostly because Abernathy’s whiskers were tickling his ear. “Time enough for that later. He doesn’t need to know everything right away.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Besides, we don’t know if
he’s
still there. He might have moved on. When was the last time you visited Libiris?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You see? Anything could have happened. Besides, what if he
is
still in residence? We’re more than a match for him, the three of us.”

“I don’t know,” Abernathy said doubtfully. “Craswell Crabbit. He’s awfully clever. I never trusted him.”

“Then we will have reason to get rid of him first thing. In fact, we
will suggest that to the King before leaving, once he has made the decision to send her. Which he will. I could tell by the way he spoke about it that he likes the idea. Anyway, you and I will be with her when she goes. What could happen?”

It was the kind of question Abernathy didn’t care to ponder, and so he dismissed it from his mind.

FROGGY WENT A-COURTIN’

T
hat night, when they were alone, Ben discussed with Willow the idea of sending Mistaya to Libiris. She agreed it was a project that deserved Mistaya’s time and effort, but she also advised him not to make it a command that Mistaya go. When he talked to her, he should suggest that this was something that might interest her and utilize her strengths, letting her make the final decision.

“But what if she says no?” he demanded.

“Then give her more time to think about it. Don’t insist. She’s very strong-willed and may react in a way that is intended to test you.”

“Test me? Why would she want to test me?”

Willow ignored the question. “Ask her again in another few days. If she still refuses, then let her make a suggestion about what she would like to do. Just tell her that staying at Sterling Silver and studying with Questor and Abernathy is not a choice, that she is too old for that now.”

Ben didn’t get it. Why all this tiptoeing around something that should be settled right off the bat? He couldn’t get past the fact that Mistaya was only fifteen, still a child despite her advanced capabilities, and not yet independent enough to be making decisions of this sort on her own. Plus, she had brought this difficulty on herself by misbehaving sufficiently at Carrington that they had sent her home.
She should be grateful he didn’t insist that she go right back and straighten things out. She should be eager to do anything he asked after what had happened.

Willow also suggested that he not do anything at all for perhaps a week and instead allow their daughter time to settle in without any talk about her future. Let her have a short vacation. Let her do what she would like for a few days before discussing what was to happen in the long term.

“I think she needs that right now,” his wife said, smiling. She leaned in to kiss him. “Remember whose daughter she is.”

Well, he remembered well enough, but what did that have to do with anything? Willow kept saying this, but he didn’t see the point. If she was his daughter, she ought to be more like him, not less.

In any case, he let the matter drop. He told Questor and Abernathy that he and Willow thought their suggestion a good one and intended to speak to Mistaya soon, adding that they should keep quiet about things in the meantime. Both seemed willing to do this, although he could not mistake the furtive glance that passed between them when he remarked that, after all, there was no hurry.

The following week passed quickly. Ben was occupied with court business, including a review of a new irrigation program pending in the Greensward that the feudal Lords were refusing to cooperate on implementing despite Ben’s orders. He knew this meant making a trip out there at some point—or at least sending a representative—but he was in no hurry to do so. It was their domain, after all, and he had to give them a chance to work it out. He was also facing complaints about the G’home Gnomes, several clutches of which had started to show up in places they were not welcome—which was just about everywhere, but especially where they hadn’t been as of yesterday. That, too, meant a visit by someone from the court—probably Questor, certainly not Abernathy—to all those parts of Landover that were being invaded. At times he wished he could simply establish a separate country for the troublesome Gnomes, but they were migratory by nature, so that was unlikely to work. Little did, where they were concerned.

Mistaya did not give him further cause to be irritated with her. She was scarcely in evidence most of the time, working away on projects of her own choosing. Even Questor and Abernathy admitted they had seen almost nothing of her, that she hadn’t once asked for their help or requested instruction. No one knew what she was doing, but as long as she was doing it unobtrusively and without obvious consequences, Ben was content to let his daughter be.