A Tale of Two Castles (19 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

P
rincess Renn had come to see me eat, because she knew I hadn't touched my meal last night or this morning. If I had, I would be sick or dead by now. I rinsed my fingers in the water bowl, slowly, slowly. Her mouth moved. I restrained myself from screaming and heard not a word.

What poison would she give me? Something quick, that wouldn't hurt, because she didn't want to cause suffering.

How much would kill me?

I had an idea what it might be, and I couldn't eat a bite. When she paused, I said, “Your Highness, alas, my hunger is banished for now.” I shivered. “Do you feel a chill?” I held my hands out to the fire, which was blazing, and leaned in as well to redden my cheeks.

She took my shoulders and turned me. “Are you ill, dear?”

I shook my head. “Only cold, and my throat is sore.”

“Food will warm you.”

I bit on my cheek, hard. “You are too good, but I cannot choke down any.” I coughed and wiped my mouth on my sleeve, taking care that she saw the blood.

Her face relaxed. “La, it
is
chilly.”

Oh, my cheek hurt.

She held my hands, which were still hot.

I saw her gold bracelets again, but none of twine. Perhaps she thought she didn't need an eejis.

“
Eh
lodie, my father will be just, and I'll see to it that you don't suffer here. I'll leave you now.” She twitched the bed-curtains aside. “I see you have enough blankets to make you warm.”

She'd made sure of that. I had guessed right about the poison.

She left.

I sniffed my bowl. The scent was faint but detectable: eastern wasp powder. Rare and expensive, but she was a princess. The poison acted in an hour or two, caused chills, fever, tremors, a tight throat, death. A single swallow would be enough to kill me. But I would feel no sharp pain, no agony. No suffering.

If she was her father's poisoner, too, she would have used something slower on him, because his symptoms had appeared much later.

I climbed to the window, tied my cap to a bar, and descended for my stew and tumbler. As I was about to tip them out, I realized the danger. Even in the rain, she might come out to look for spilled stew.

I threw the meal into the fireplace and began to pace. My masteress said that one culprit was elegant, but there had to be two in this case. Master Thiel had certainly been the poacher and the thief of castle valuables. I would assume Her Highness responsible for everything else: stealing Nesspa, signaling the cats, poisoning her father.

Why do any of it?

Put myself in their steads. That's what I'd told Master Thiel about mansioning, and I'd thought the words significant. Now I knew the meaning: put myself in Princess Renn's stead. She might poison her father because he was about to betroth her to an infant, and she wouldn't be allowed to say no.

But the new betrothal had come after the feast, and he was poisoned at the feast.

I felt bewildered.

Let the king go for now. Why set the cats on the count?

She told me that the king had betrothed her to the count. Put myself in her stead. Suppose she hadn't wanted to wed an ogre, but she had pretended to love him.

And signaled the cats.

To simplify the task, she stole Nesspa. She must have been horrified when I found him. But then, luckily for her, he needed to leave during the feast.

How had she stolen him?

With treats.

How had she kept him hidden?

The answer broke on me like a mallet on the head: by poisoning him, just enough to keep him docile. When I found him he was alert, but he didn't have to be quiet on the wall walk where no one would hear him. Likely she had dosed the other dogs in the hall, too, and that was why they did nothing to stop the cats.

I had tied my cap to the window only a few minutes ago, but I climbed up to look for IT.

The rain prevented me from seeing as far as I had yesterday, and I didn't see IT.

I climbed down.

She must have lulled the ox with poison, too, then raked its shoulder. Why?

She'd spoken about thoroughness when she tied her cap laces three times under my chin. If she did a thing, she did it more than once, or in more ways than one.

Why?

Think elegantly.

If His Lordship (as a mouse) had been seen being devoured by a cat, she would have had to do nothing more about him. But when the mouse escaped, she had no certainty, so she mauled the ox and frightened the town into believing the ogre a hungry lion. If he returned in his ordinary form, the people of Two Castles would find a way to kill him.

I wished IT would come.

Now for the king's poisoning.

Perhaps at the beginning she didn't want to kill anyone but an ogre. Causing a monster's death wouldn't be evil, according to her. She didn't intend for Nesspa to die. He would have been freed when she was safe from His Lordship.

But when her father announced her new betrothal, she realized—while I was alone with the two of them—that he would go on making matches for her. She decided that he had to die, too. She couldn't have much daughterly affection for him, horror that he was.

That meant he wasn't really poisoned at the feast. She might even have dosed him while I watched. I shuddered.

How?

The fashion of long, flowing sleeves! Perfect for concealment. Prepared for anything as she was, she could have kept a hidden pouch of poison on her always.

With closed eyes, I recalled the scene. I saw her spear a chunk of sausage on her knife with her right hand. Her left passed over the meat to gather up her right sleeve and keep it from trailing through the food. Likely the poison was in her left sleeve. She sprinkled with her left hand.

I remembered the missing mortar and pestle on the morning of the feast. She might have taken them to grind her poison.

Where was my masteress? As soon as King Grenville recovered enough to do without constant watching over, his daughter would feed him something else. In his weakened state, he would certainly die. Everyone would think he'd merely taken a turn for the worse. Cures for poisoning were uncertain.

IT had to come soon!

I returned to my deducing. Princess Renn must have been behind Cellarer Bwat, my accuser. She had probably hinted to him that I might be to blame, hinted so subtly he thought the suspicion his own.

As I mulled it over, I saw she had reason to fear me. I'd witnessed her dismay when His Highness revealed her new future husband. She had directed me to search the stable when she knew Nesspa was elsewhere. I had dis-
covered the mauled ox. And I was the assistant to a dragon skilled at unraveling mysteries. Thorough again, she thought imprisoning me not enough. She had to poison me, too.

I wondered if His Lordship had seen her set the cats on him. Poor count. If he loved the princess, what a blow that would have been.

Had she poisoned him as well as signaled the cats? I remembered his face had been mottled red and white when the minstrel sang, and he'd swayed when he tried to address everyone after the king announced the betrothal. Also he'd hugged himself as if he were cold just before he shifted into the lion.

Poison might have made him less able to resist the cats.

Again I climbed to the window. Below me a hooded figure rounded the tower, walking slowly, hugging the wall. Even from above I recognized Princess Renn's thin shoulders and awkward gait. She was seeking the remnants of my meal.

A moment ago I'd wanted my masteress instantly. Now IT mustn't come!

With trembling hands, I pulled in the trailing cap laces, untied the knots, and took in the cap.

Then I waited, waited, waited.

Surely she must be gone by now. I peeped out.

She was kneeling on the wet ground, her shoulders shaking. As I watched, she raised her head. I retreated, but not before seeing her red eyes, her tragic expression.

The next time I looked, she was gone. I tied the wet cap back in place. A form, grayed by the weather, flew toward me from Two Castles. Soon IT would pass over the outer curtain. I waved. IT would find a way to save the king.

IT wheeled back and forth as IT had last night, but at a greater distance from me. Why?

Abruptly IT flew straight up.

“Come back!”

IT rose higher, then twisted in the air. While frantically beating ITs wings, IT fell and disappeared behind the outer curtain.

Chapter Thirty-Six

I
gripped the bars. IT must have taken an arrow in ITs belly. I heard myself sobbing as if from far away. Could IT survive the arrow or the fall? I squeezed my eyes tight, making colors swirl behind my eyelids—rather than images of ITs death.

Oh, my masteress, I thought again and again.

I untied my cap and climbed shakily down from the window. Then I sat with my head down on the tabletop, but after a minute I stood, refusing to cry anymore. I would hope IT lived, so why cry?

IT couldn't save the king now. I would have to attempt the deed myself.

But His Majesty wasn't worth saving compared with my masteress. How could I save IT?

Master Dess might be able to heal IT if I could get to him.

I hadn't tried to escape while I was relying on my Great, my Unfathomable, my Brilliant Masteress Meenore.

I circled the room, looking at everything. The fire poker. Stand on the table, yell for the guards, and smite them on the head as they entered.

No. The first guard would catch my arm before I could strike. I would only anger them.

Might I mansion myself out of here?

I continued to circle.

When would the princess come to see how sick I was?

Had she already poisoned her father again?

I circled the other way. An idea began to form. I thought it out, although I had no time for all this thinking.

I would say this. If a guard said that, I would say the other. They wouldn't be surprised to see me healthy. Her Highness could hardly have told them to expect me to be ill.

Three more circuits, and I was ready. I wrung out my soaked cap and put it back on, although the dampness was unpleasant. Then I eased the key out of the keyhole and tucked it into the heel of my shoe where I could get at it quickly.

I swallowed over a lump in my throat. Masteress Meenore would want to hear about this, if I did well.

The bottom of the bed draperies had a two-inch hem. I found a dropped stitch and pulled, widening the opening.

I knocked on the door. In a gay tone, I cried, “Hail! Open, if you please!” I leaned my ear against the door but heard nothing. If they ignored me, I was lost. His Majesty and my masteress as well. I called again.

A minute or more passed before I heard the bolt pulled free. I backed farther into the room and clasped my hands pleadingly.

The door opened. The guards had changed since Her Highness had come. Luck was with me—half with me, at least. I recognized one of the guards, a young man who had been posted at a fireplace in the great hall and had watched my performance. I remembered seeing him laugh. The other guard was older, with lines of discontent around his mouth.

“Thank you, masters. Time passes slowly in here.” I bit my lip. “And I'm frightened.” I truly was. My legs could hardly support me. “So I've been practicing my mansioning.”

The older guard folded his arms across his chest.

I smiled up at them both. “But I need help with a mansioner's tale that has four characters. A princess.” I ran to the table for my spoon. “Here is my scepter.” I flourished it. “A beautiful princess.” I batted my eyelashes. The younger guard grinned. The older one settled back on his heels.

“The second character is a witch, who has the princess in her keeping.” I pulled a blanket off my bed and threw it around me, making a hooded cape. Rounding my shoulders as a hump, I pulled my cap laces forward to suggest a few strands of chin hair. In a crackly voice I said, “I am the witch.”

I wished I could do this quicker, but I had to persuade the guards to forget themselves.

Straightening, in my own voice, I said, “I need two princes. I can't portray them.”

The younger guard grinned and said, “I've always . . .”

The older guard sent him a reproving look. My heart sank.

But the young guard came to my aid. “Dure, it's dull enough out there.” He indicated the door with his head. “Where's the harm? She can't get past us.”

Dure's mouth relaxed.

“Alas, they are impoverished princes, their father being a spendthrift. One prince is as kind and warmhearted as the sun, the other as handsome and brilliant as a star.”

This was the first tale Albin had ever taught me, and I was using his exact words, pausing where he used to pause.

“Which would you like to be, masters?”

The young guard laughed. “You be the handsome one, Dure. I'm handsome already.”

The older guard shrugged. His voice was like rough rocks rubbing together. “Onnore, you could persuade a hedgehog to fly. I will be the handsome one, young mistress.”

I sat in the chair, pulled the blanket onto my lap, and tossed my head prettily. “I am sitting in a castle window, sewing.” I held an imaginary needle and pushed it in and out of the blanket. “You ride by on your prancing chargers.”

They didn't move.

“Walk past me, please.”

They did so, awkwardly.

“With pride. Remember, you are princes.”

They threw their shoulders back.

“I am so comely you both fall madly in love with me.”

Dure snorted.

“Truly, I am half in love already, little mistress,” Onnore said gallantly.

“You both return to stand under my window.”

They actually came back.

“Each of you wishes to marry me, so you begin to argue.”

Neither one said a word.

I pursed my lips and smoothed the hair on my forehead below the cap. “Why do you think
you
should have me, Prince Dure?”

I watched him think. “Because I am so handsome.” He chuckled. “Onnore, you are not half as handsome as I.”

“But I am as warm as the sun.” He laughed. “I can melt your handsomeness.”

“Yet I can outwit you and stop you from melting me.”

I let them make a few more arguments. The minutes ticked by.

With each rebuttal they laughed harder.

Finally I cast my imaginary needle over my shoulder and turned the blanket into a hooded cape again. I cackled, “You princelings who love my Soulette, I will not give her to just anyone. The man who can find the magical purse filled with coins . . .” I untied my purse from my belt and shook it so they could hear jingling. I took a silver coin halfway out, then dropped it back in.

There is a saying in Lahnt:
Silver blinds men more powerfully than the sun.

Dure's mouth dropped open. Onnore rose on his toes.

“That man and no other will have my Soulette.” I closed my fist around the purse. In my ordinary voice I added, “Both princes, stand at the door, if you please.”

They went willingly and stood with their backs to the door. Dure crossed his arms again, his guarding pose.

“Stand there to prevent my escape. Now close your eyes, so I may hide the magic purse.”

They closed their eyes, but I suspected they would open them a slit in a moment. I hid my fist in the folds of my skirt.

Princess Renn would certainly check on me soon. Wait, Your Highness, I pray you. Do not come yet.

Noisily I pulled the chair and table to the window and climbed up but didn't leave the purse there. Next, I hurried to the bed and closed the drapes around me. I lifted the mattress and let it fall, smoothed out the bedding, and then—silently—inserted the purse into the hole I'd made in the drapery.

After slipping out between the bed-curtains, I stamped to the case of shelves, which I moved away from the wall, paused, pushed back. I opened the wooden box, then closed it with a loud click. I dragged the table and chair to the middle of the room, laid a fresh log on the fire, and announced in my witch's voice, “There, my sweetlings.”

Master Onnore, who was tall enough not to need the chair, shoved the table against the wall and climbed up. He ran his hand along the windowsill, although he could see there was no purse. He looked back to make sure I hadn't left. Then he peered down, seeking the purse below in the outer ward.

Master Dure stood at the shelves, opening the box, looking in the bowl, feeling under each shelf. He, too, glanced at me after every few seconds. Finally he moved the case of shelves aside and slid his dagger between the floorboards.

Master Onnore rushed to the fireplace and used the poker to assure himself I hadn't tossed the purse in there. He would have been comical if the circumstances hadn't been so dire.

Together they advanced on the bed and drew open the curtains. After a minute or two of carefully shifting bedclothes and looking at me, they ripped open the mattress and forgot me in pawing through the feathers. I counted to a hundred, then inched the door open, slowly, slowly, until I had just enough room to slip out, and slid it closed behind me—

And heard the princess from below. “I've come with a refreshment for the poor girl. I will take this one to her as well.”

My heart pounded, but I fitted the key into the lock and turned, hearing a quiet clink. Then, key still in my right fist, I lifted my skirt and started up the ladder to the wall walk above the tower.

“La! I can climb stairs unaided.”

I saw the glow of a torch on the staircase walls below. With all my strength, I raised the trapdoor, climbed out—

And faced low boots and stout calves.

The guard pulled me up by my armpits. I passed a big belly, saw a red beard, green eyes. “Be still. I've got you.”

“Her Highness is hurt!”

Princess Renn cried from below, “La! Help! Oh, la!” She had discovered the locked door.

The guard grabbed my left hand and started down. I bent over but didn't step back on the ladder. Other cries rose from below.

“Come.” He let go my hand and reached for my ankles.

I jumped back.

The cries continued, the princess's most shrill of all.

Would he come up for me or go down to her?

He descended. I tossed the key over the battlements and raced away. The rain had become fog. If more guards were on the wall walk, the mist might hide me.

The king's chambers were in the northwest tower, on the other side of the gatehouse wall walk.

Let them not expect me to go there. And let me not be too late.

I didn't think His Highness's trapdoor would be guarded, and it wasn't. Why guard it without a prisoner inside? I raised it a crack. Guards would certainly be posted inside or outside the king's chamber, or both.

Luck was with me. No guards on the landing. I lifted the trapdoor just enough to admit me and then gentled it back into place and stole down the ladder. The king's bed hadn't been in the room I'd visited or on the story below, so it had to be in the top chamber, as my prison bed had been.

The tower seemed to sway. I put my hand on the doorknob to steady myself. I swallowed repeatedly before I knew I could speak.

“La, Father! Here I am. . . .” I turned the knob and opened the door. “La! I have extraordinary . . .”

I ran in. An impression of startled faces. “Your Majesty . . .” I fell on my knees—and was lifted by two guards the instant my knees touched the floor. They began to drag me out.

“I didn't poison you, but I know who did. She'll do it again.”

His Highness held up his hand. “How fortunate I am that prisoners break in to bring me truth.” His voice had diminished to a whisper. “Pray tell, who?”

Goodwife Celeste sat on a stool near the king's bed. “Elodie!”

Sir Misyur turned away from tending the fire. “Elodie?”

Master Dess sat in the window recess, stroking a small dog in his lap. A third man, likely Sir Maydsin the physician, held the king's wrist, taking his pulse.

The guards loosened their grips but didn't let me go.

His Highness leaned forward. “Name the lady you wish to put in your place.”

Say it! I told myself. He may kill me, but say it! “Has . . .” I had to catch my breath. “Has your daughter given you food today?”

“My daughter?” He laughed. Coughed. Laughed again. “You may release her.”

The guards obeyed but remained close.

“Master Dess!” I cried. “Beyond the eastern outer curtain, Masteress Meenore lies wounded. IT may have an arrow in ITs belly.”

“Your Majesty . . .” Master Dess bowed and hurried from the chamber.

“Misyur, will you be so kind as to find my daughter, and don't tell her what this is about. This girl is always droll. Renn will be amused. We'll hold the trial here.”

Sir Misyur bowed and left.

“My daughter did share with me a delicious rabbit pie.” He addressed himself to Goodwife Celeste. “She came after you left me for my nap. She is always welcome, but especially when she brings food.”

Goodwife Celeste looked startled.

How much poison in the pie? How soon would it strike?

“Now, while we wait, the girl will mansion the tale with the snake.” He waved the guards away. “Give her space.”

How could I mansion now? I didn't want to!

Goodwife Celeste nodded at me. I began by turning my cap backward for the bad sister. The imaginary moonsnake oozed slowly from my mouth. How hard it was to concentrate.

When the snake had emerged, I leaped from side to side to get away from it.

The king laughed. The guards laughed. The king coughed. Goodwife Celeste frowned.

After an especially wide leap, I turned my cap to the front to be the kind sister.

“La, Father!” The princess entered with Sir Misyur and two guards, neither of them Master Dure or Master Onnore. “
Eh
lodie?”

The king patted the bed next to him. “Sit by me. The girl is even more diverting than I thought. She claims you poisoned me.”

“La!”

“It is in her left sleeve! You'll see. She tried to poison me, too.” Oh no! “She was bringing me—”

“My dear, oblige me by holding out your left arm.”

I was frantic. “If the guards eat my meal, they'll die!”

“Make her quiet,” King Grenville said.