Over The Sea (22 page)

However, she proved she knew how to shut one. She passed through, spun around, her train twisting around her legs, grabbed the door out of the servant's hand, and slammed it so hard the mirror shattered.

We heard her screeching beyond.

The servants exchanged looks, and the man in gray with the gold chain said to a guard, “Has to be intruders. Make a search. Promotion and double month's-pay for anyone who finds them.” The guards clattered out at a run, followed by the most of the rest of the servants.

Seshe whispered, “What now?”

“I have an idea,” I said, as some of the servants wearily began picking up shards of broken mirror. “But we've got to be fast.”

As soon as their backs were turned, Seshe slipped into the room next to the wardrobe, which was the dressing room. It was still lit, and no one was around.

I sent both girls out on errands, and got busy.

Fobo emerged from the bathroom in her nightie, and tromped out- — knocking over the servants who were busy replacing the mirror and picking the shattered glass out of the pink carpet. Would she go straight to bed, or would she do the same thing as some of the ladies on Earth who were obsessed about their youth?

Yes! She thumped straight into the dressing room. Diana and Seshe, both in the plain uniforms of cleaning servants, were helping to pick glass shards from the carpet. I was with Seshe. She stayed over by the window so we could see into the dressing room, where we'd found — as I had expected — about a million pots and jars and containers of cosmetic goo of an astounding variety, and vials of perfumes.

Fobo tried to slam the door, but a steward caught it, though his fingers obviously pinched dreadfully. But the mirror didn't shatter, and all the servants breathed sighs of relief. I wondered how often she broke those mirrors.

Everyone got back to work. By now I was laughing so hard I nearly fell off Seshe, and had to grab onto the pale pink ruffles on her apron's shoulder straps.

We didn't actually see what happened, but within the space of about five breaths, once again the shrieks. I could envision what had happened. She'd started putting the gunk on her face for the night. But in the golden, pearl-studded container a maid had thoughtfully set out, I'd put careful dots of ink, with goo laid just over them. After all, she did like polka-dots!

Fobo emerged, screeching louder than ever. I was not the only one with a blue face! Diana nearly died trying not to laugh, as once again, all the servants came crowding back, some of them in night-robes with hastily pulled on cloaks or coats over them.

PJ hid at the Grand Steward's shoulder, gawked at his mother, then he pronounced, “King Kwenz must be summoned.” And he pattered off.

We were edging near the door. A guard grabbed Diana, snarling, “Who was in here?”

“A hand-sized blue princess,” Diana retorted.

The guard scowled. “You give me lip and I'll tell the Grand Steward.”

“Take it as you wish,” Diana said, stolid as ever.

“Lenn!” The guard turned to see who'd called him, then he clattered out, not bothering to look back.

Soon we heard Kwenz's wheezy voice in the hallway. “... and I can perform search spells for magic traces in each room,” he said. “But I doubt that I will find anything of the sort.”

“Mumsie needs you,” PJ stated. “Her nerves are delicate!”

Fobo had retreated into her dressing room — she did not want anyone seeing that ink. I would have liked to stay for the conversation through shut doors, but if Kwenz was going to perform a magical search, it was time to be gone. Especially as it would take all night.

“Let's find the rest of the girls,” I called.

Diana looked around. “But first I'm takin' this.” She picked up a fancy crown.

“It's so ugly,” Seshe commented, shaking her head. Then she bent closer, eying the enormous gemstones, which were so solid you could hardly see the gold. It looked to me like one of those fake ones you could buy at a drug store on Earth, the stones made out of plastic. Seshe bent, ticking at a stone with a fingernail, then straightened up.

I said, “Are they fake? I thought they looked fake because there are no many, and the colors don't work together.”

Seshe flicked a lock of her hair back. “The diamonds, at least, I wouldn't vouch for. Well.” She shook her head. “I wondered why these servants put up with such treatment. Now I wonder if they are busy bowing to Her Gracious Majesty and robbing her behind her back.”

“Let's get out of here,” I squeaked. The place — the people — made me feel itchy.

“Don't care if the gems are fake or not. Perfect trophy,” Diana said, and plopped the crown onto her head. It looked odd with the modest maid's dress.

We left, and found Sherry and Faline down in the kitchens, which were deserted.

Faline was nearly purple with her effort to hold in her laughter. “Dhana and I ran through slamming doors in empty rooms,” she gasped. “And relighting candles. Then I came here. And the best ... the best ...” She wailed, groping toward Sherry.

“Oh, just wait until they cook breakfast,” Sherry proclaimed with satisfaction, looking around the kitchen. “Won't they get a surprise.”

“... and for the nobles' breakfast — it's kept separate from the ordinary food the servants have to eat — I put sugar in the salt, and salt in the puddings, and vinegar in the cream, and every single spice in the pastry dough,” Sherry was saying to Clair the next day.

Clair looked tired, but content. We all sat in a cozy circle down in the Junky, which was lit by the comforting light of a fire in the fireplace, and herb-scented candles all about.

“And here's something,” Faline added. “I was with a bunch of maids snickering in one of the pantries.”

“I didn't see you,” Irene stated. “I looked.”

“You must not have looked very hard,” Diana said, shutting her eyes.

“But I did,” Irene countered dramatically. “I wanted to make certain we were not doing the same things, so I made sure of where everyone was.”

Faline hunched up — very unlike her.

“I'm glad you checked on everyone's safety, Irene,” Clair said calmly. “Faline, what did you overhear?”

“Nothing much, except, wow, I don't think they like the Auknuges, not at all.”

“Then why are they there?” Sherry asked, her bright blue eyes round.

“Besides my guess about some of them robbing her, it's probably an easy job,” Seshe said. “I mean, for those who aren't her personal attendants. She has far too many servants. Must think it gives her prestige. She doesn't deny herself anything, so even though she has two standards — the noble and the common — they still must benefit.”

“I think you are right,” Clair stated. “And all the money to support that huge household must be coming from her brother, since she couldn't possibly raise it all from the locals. Even with terrible taxes. Now, let's get CJ back to herself.”

She held out her hand and I climbed onto it from Seshe's shoulder.

She set me on the desk. I squinched up my face, remembering that glob from before.

“I bet her heart is tiny,” Sherry marveled.

“Hah! How about her little toenail?” Diana added.

“She's lucky we don't have any grudges,” Irene gloated, rubbing her hands.

“One false step, and KRUNCH!” Faline cackled, obviously recovered from whatever had upset her before.

Sherry laughed, Seshe winced, Irene looked ready to carry on the joke, but I screeched, “
Now
, Clair!”

And she did. The glop felt cold and nasty, but as I got larger it got thinner, and vanished when I was my usual self. I fought dizziness for a moment, then looked down at my skin. The blue was still there, but so faded it was barely visible. It would wear off soon.

I smiled grimly, thinking of Fobo's cosmetics. Not just the night glop, but the stuff for daytime, into which we'd added some sugar. How soon before she starts itching? Well, better itching than planning to take over Clair's kingdom simply to have more people bowing to her.

Clair, looking at me, smiled. “I take it you've strained that alliance.”

“Oh, haven't we just.”

“It's breakfast time.” Irene twiddled her fingers by her ears. “Her Gracious Majesty and His Royal Highness ought to be sitting down to pepper-mustard tartlets and salt-vinegar oatcakes about now.”

Clair grinned, her lips parted, but she just shook her head.

As the others ran out, I said, “The Chwahir aren't born with those black eyes, are they? That has to be some spell. Kwenz doesn't have 'em.”

Clair's expression sobered. “It's a spell put on them when they are born.”

“Do their eyes become all pupil? I mean, that is so creepy!”

“No. I think their pupils are forced to a large size, to counteract the shadow. There are some distilled flowers that have that effect. But the rest of the black is an illusion, my cousin told me once. The Chwahir in the homeland don't have them, only the ones here. It marks them,” she said. “Kwenz can always find them if they try to run away. And of course our people hate them because they look so horrible.”

“Ugh,” I said, and then shrugged them off. They were just Chwahir, after all.

A bright bluish light flared in the forest, followed by hot wind that smelled of burnt air, and two girls transferred, running forward. Both were panting.

They stumbled a few steps then slowed, looking around. At home they'd been trying to outrun a terrible thunderstorm that had brewed up overhead. Both had been aware only of running hard, trying to breathe, being stung by hail, and then a crackling, horrible noise, a sensation of heat — and here they were.

They looked around. The forest looked familiar, and yet not; the air was colder, and those trees over there, the big ones with five-pointed rusty red leaves, were just like a row of trees that served as a landmark at home. But at home the shrubs around them were different; here they were mostly ferns, almost obscuring the trunks, and what they remembered were hardier, the leaves waxy, pointy (they scratched you if you ran through them) with tiny berries.

“This is strange,” proclaimed the taller of the two, looking around.

“It is,” stated the other. “It's like home. And yet not.”

“Something happened,” stated the first. She crossed skinny, freckled arms across a skinny chest. “And it wasn't Fonei.”

“I dunno if that is good, or bad,” the other muttered. She was shorter, well-proportioned, with smooth light brown skin and pretty features. She had long, curling brown hair, as curly as the other's was straight, and a rich dark brown whereas the other's was pure white. The only thing the girls shared was the hazel color of their eyes.

“If it looks familiar,” the one with white hair pronounced, “then let's test it. Let's try to get to Hig. We were anyway.”

“Well, we can't lose ourselves any more than we have,” said the other, sighing.

They tramped through the peaceful forest, Lena happily kicking up the glorious carpet of fallen leaves. Everything was so familiar and yet not; even the birdsong was familiar sometimes, and yet not at others. The smells were slightly different, yet homey. Both felt quite uneasy, despite the cool weather, the quiet — the lack of enemies from home.

Around a bend, and there it was, a cave that was sort of familiar. And sort of not.

Both girls stopped, staring, and then faded with practiced ease behind a thick ferny bush, their feet making no sound on the mossy ground.

What startled them was not the half-familiar cave — they had expected to find that, or had feared to find it, they couldn't yet tell which — but the utterly unfamiliar girl sitting on the hillock, covered in yellowed grass, below which the little cave opened. She swung her legs, yawning behind a hand, and then peered up into a high tree.

The visitors just made out the shape of another girl, obviously a lookout, peering in the opposite direction.

“All right,” called the girl in the tree. “Sherry, get Dhana. It's her turn.”

The visitors looked at one another. The words were not their home language, yet they had no difficulty understanding it.

“Lesa! I know what happened,” the white-haired one whispered — in their home language, which sounded just like usual. “That lightning hit us, and we're dead, we just don't know it.”

The brown-haired one gave a quiet sniff. “Lena.” She flexed her hands and then lightly struck her middle. “If I were dead, I'd know it.” She angled a thumb up, toward where the other girl was climbing rapidly down. “Why don't we take a look, see what we might recognize. If anything?”

They waited until the girl in the tree had jumped down to the grass and vanished into the cave, followed by the one who had been sitting above.

Then Lena and Lesa shot up into a nearby tall tree, with all the rapidity of much practice. They clung to different branches high up, one looking northwards from east to west, the other looking southwards from west to east.

“Oh my,” Lesa murmured, when she spotted the white gleam of the castle on the cloud. “Lena — ”

“Ulp!” Lena replied, and Lesa almost lost her grip, she spun around so fast.

They had been so busy scanning the horizon for familiar landmarks that they hadn't noticed that a girl had climbed the tall tree on the other side of the hill, and she was staring right at them, her mouth open.

This was Dhana, on her patrol.

Dhana smacked her hand over her eyes and looked again. “Clair?” she said uncertainly. That white-haired girl had the same eyes, the same color of hair, but otherwise she was so different: a pointy chin instead of square, freckles (Clair had none) and a skinny body whereas Clair's was just sort of normal.

The girls looked at Dhana, both frozen in place, their expressions both bemused and kind of appalled.