Over The Sea (9 page)

I also found a green skirt that reached to my feet, and fell in love at once. It was too big round the waist, but a sash made it fit fine. Underwear were super-soft cotton-wool, or linen, kind of like shorts, called drawers. On your top half during cold weather you wore t-shirts with no sleeves, called singlets. Apparently boys and girls wore pretty much the same stuff under their clothes.

The last item in the room was a fireplace. Clair had explained that the material the castle was made of drew heat away when the sun was hot, and stored it until winter. Like batteries, I thought. But there were also fireplaces for those who liked a fire, and in it you put magic ‘fire sticks' that gave off fire but didn't burn.

I stepped through the cleaning frame, and felt a strong, quick tingle down my body. Even my teeth and scalp. A sort of snap and sparkle at the edge of my vision, and then it was over.

I got out of the nightie, hung it on the waiting hook, and put on my shirt and green skirt and sash. No shoes! And no one could make me wear them, either!

Last, I looked at the little silver circlet that Clair had given me. It wasn't at all like the Earth crowns in pictures — either spiky things, or those weird hats with the puffy parts (those reminded me of cooks), but more like a thin silver band. It was pretty, with stylized lilies etched into it, and once it had been Clair's. Ought I to wear it? I hesitated, then decided that I should, at least once, for maybe it would help me feel more like a princess — either that, or it would help convince others I wasn't a fake. So I settled it onto my hair, where it fit so well I soon forgot about it.

Out, into the hall. Habit made me peek cautiously, then I thought: this is my home. I live here. It's not pretend any more, it's real.

And I walked out, enjoying the brush of my skirt against my ankles, and the feeling of my hair against my wrists. The air around me was just a little chilly, but it was much better than smoggy heat, I decided.

Still, I was glad to get to the kitchen, where Janil smiled on me. Janil was a woman whose age was impossible to guess. Her hair, worn up in a bun, was brown, her build comfortable. She obviously liked to eat her own cooking.

“Good morning,” she said. “Now, what do you wish to be called? Princess Cherene, or your highness?”

I felt my face burn with embarrassment. Titles! Maybe that sort of thing felt natural when you're born to it, but it definitely made me feel like I was taking a part in a play. “What do you call Clair?”

“She prefers Clair,” Janil said, her smile making her cheeks dimple. “Except if there's an official function. Then we all play our roles, so everyone knows what's what.”

“Then that's what I'll do. Thanks,” I said, sitting down. “Yum,” I added, as she set out a plate of fresh-baked berry muffins.

I was halfway through one when Faline and Sherry came tearing in. Faline's bright red braids actually stuck straight out behind her. One was tied with an orange ribbon that clashed hideously with her hair — if you care about fashion — and the other was tied with yellow. She wore a green shirt and purple satin trousers that belled about the ankles.

“Going riding?” was Janil's only comment when she saw this getup.

“I dunno. Are we?” Faline asked, turning to me. “I just want to say, I like your looks! You look like you!” She laughed as Sherry nodded firmly, her big blue eyes wide. “I need to make up a joke about that. But first, did Clair mention having to practice with Hreealdar?”

Hreealdar
translated out to
lightning-flash
. Yet she'd used it as a name.

“Not that I know of. What — or who — is Hreealdar?”

Sherry and Faline exchanged grins.

“Wow, do you have a surprise coming!” Faline gloated. “It's a great one.” She grabbed a muffin and broke it open. “Now, here's your first day joke. What did PJ say to CJ when they first met?
Is this our initial meeting?
“ She paused, snickering so hard that jam slopped off her knife onto the plate.

Sherry was laughing even harder. “G-go on ... t-tell her the r-rest ...”

Faline plunked down knife and muffin. “All right! So CJ said to PJ,
I'll
— ” Faline was shaking too hard to speak.

I scowled down at my plate.

“Good morning, Cherene.” That was Seshe.

“Hi,” I said, feeling self-conscious, but Seshe didn't say anything. She just took a place, gave me a smile, and a tiny little nod that — with the smile — made me feel that she very much liked all the changes.

“S-so CJ says to PJ ...”

“There ought to be a rule,” came Irene's voice as she breezed in, wearing a pretty pale green gown. “None of your stupid jokes at breakfast.” She put her hands on her hips. “I
knew
you would have black hair. But I thought you'd be taller than Seshe. No.” She put a finger on her chin. “I was quite afraid you would be. But you're just right. Silence, Faline!”

“Don't you like to laugh first thing in the day?” Faline asked her, wiping her eyes.

“Laugh, yes. Groan in pain, no.” Irene shook back her wrist ruffles and daintily buttered her muffin. She turned to me. “Cherene Jennet. Clair asked me to take you to the dressmaker, if you would like to go.”

“Sure,” I said, helping myself to some grapefruit.

“You gonna get princess dresses, CJ?” Faline asked, fluffing her fingers all around her neck and shoulders.

My face burned again. What a stupid reaction! As if I'd been caught doing something wrong, when I hadn't!

“She has to have at least one, for official purposes,” Seshe said calmly, buttering another muffin. “Just like Clair does.”

Irene nodded. “Laugh all you like, Faline, but it's true. If you dress up, then grownups take you more seriously. They won't if you're in horrible purple riding trousers and bare feet.”

“Better you than me, then, CJ. I don't want anybody to take me seriously,” Faline declared. “I better get me some more purple trousers!”

CJ! Less than a day, and already my pretty new name had been mangled, and even worse, it reminded me of PJ. And it was I who'd thought up
that
nickname!

I sat there glaring at my muffin crumbs, wondering if I ought to command Faline to use my name. What did a princess do about such things?

Faline and Sherry finished, picked up their plates, plunked them in and out of the cleaning barrel, and then stacked them on the sideboard. Utensils and glasses too, then they were gone.

I wondered if I — being a princess — was supposed to be waited on, but I couldn't imagine Clair doing that, so I picked up my own plate and knife and went to the barrel. I looked down into the water as I dipped my plate. Sparkle! The food bits sank down to a haze at the bottom. Same with the bits on the knife. I put them away, and found Seshe right behind me.

“I take it the old food and stuff builds up at the bottom of the barrel, right?” I asked.

Seshe nodded.

“What happens then?”

“If you have the magic, you transfer it to the garden. Or you just dump it there. Get more water. The spell stays on the barrel until it needs renewing.”

“Wow.”

“I'll be right along,” Irene called as I passed through the door. “I just want some hot chocolate.”

Hot chocolate! Where was that? Oh, I could get it later. I needed to think. Or maybe just ask Clair, except what if she was busy?

“Is there a problem?” Seshe asked.

I whirled around. We were alone in the hall, with rain slanting against the row of tall arched windows on the right. I looked out at the terrace with its potted plants, and sighed. “They don't use my name,” I admitted. “One day, and I've already got a stupid nickname that sounds like PJ. Should I command them not to say it?”

We had stopped. Seshe ran her finger over the window glass, tracing the pattern made by a drop of rain. “You could ask Clair. But I think she'd leave it up to you.” She hesitated, and then said, “Want to hear what I think? I wandered some, before Clair brought me here. So I have a bit of experience.”

She was taller than I, of course — the ironic thing was, I realized, they were all taller than I. Even Sherry and Faline, though only by an inch or so. But Seshe was both oldest and tallest. At home she would have been a considered a teenager; here the division seemed to be different between child and adult, though I didn't know how, and didn't care, so long as I stayed safely a kid.

“Yes,” I said. “Please.”

“Well, there are two kind of commands. The ones that you make people obey by threatening them, and the ones that others want to obey because they make sense. That kind depends on a sort of mutual agreement, don't you see? Just like we agree when we play a game. Only it's a continuing game, or a role: you be the princess and I'll be the common girl, forever, and not just for the length of a game.”

“So what you're saying is, either you're a villain, or else a command has to make sense, or do some good?”

She tipped her head to one side. “I think that's what I'm saying.” She smiled.

“Then if I command them to call me Cherene Jennet — never mind Princess — then I'll sound like PJ?”

“How would you feel if Clair suddenly commanded you to call her Queen Clevarlineh? That is her given name, you know, though she never uses it — thinks it pretentious because nobody has it except some very famous queens.”

“I would, but that's because I like her. Oh. I see! I'm too new here, and nobody wants to please me yet.” I thought to myself: they accept me not because I'm me, but because they like Clair so much.

Well, I knew what being hated for myself meant. And I resolved I was not going to mess up here. So ... what to do, then?

Seshe said, in a hesitant voice, “So what anyone in a position of rank learns — if they rule the second way, without using force — is that there has to be compromise.”

“That's not hypocrisy?” I asked. “I just learned that word before I came.”
And I recognized myself in it.

“No, for hypocrisy is saying one thing and doing another. Compromise is more of a give and take and then agreement. In the little things, to make life better for everyone, and not just to get what one wants. In the important ones, it's different.”

I looked at her, fascinated, because I strongly sensed experience behind her words. At once her considering gaze shifted to the window; once again I sensed she was hiding something, for usually she met your eyes straight on.

I asked, “And if they still won't compromise?”

“Then you either give in. Or use force. Or leave. There's always a choice.”

“
There
you are!” That was Irene. “Cherene, are you ready to go to the dressmaker? Seshe, you coming along?”

“I said I'd sort some things for Clair,” Seshe said. “Have a good time!”

Irene led the way down the hall to the front of the white palace. I hadn't even seen the official function rooms yet. We passed large antechambers, some of them empty, some with a little furniture, but everywhere was unrelieved white, the light subtle, with curving blue shadows.

As we walked, I was alternating between looking about and thinking over Seshe's words. I remembered what Clair had said about no one having to talk about one's past, so I considered, then said, “Did Seshe tell everyone where she came from? She seems to know a lot about — ”

“About?” Irene asked, grinning.

“Well, royal-type things.”

“She hasn't said, but
I
believe she's a runaway duchess. At
least
. Or an heir to some great estate. She had such finicky manners when we first came. The others all make fun of me because I like to pretend I'm somebody. I never was, really.” She wrinkled her nose. Then the airs were back. “She Seshe really didn't know anything about making her bed, or setting the table, or even sewing on a button, or a thousand other little things. But she changed so quickly they forgot. I never did,” Irene added finger to chin. “So I've made up this wonderful past for her, just for fun. I pretend she's a lost princess, heir to a great empire.”

We crossed a great foyer just then, and I looked through two big open doors, and saw a great hall, again all white, and mostly empty.

“Throne room,” Irene said. “We're in it once in a million years.”

She whirled around so her skirts belled, and we ran down some wide, shallow steps onto a broad tiled quad that was flower bordered, narrowing in a curve to a road. The road was short, leading between two ivy-covered walls into a broad, charming town-square. I forgot I was not on the ground, but up in the sky. Clair's capital was small — no bigger than a market town of the old days on Earth. Several streets led off from the main square, which (I found out later) curved into one another. A kind of magic wall, invisible but unyielding, kept people from the edge. The vapor from underneath tended to drift up in fog wisps, and few went to the edges. All the focus was inward.

“There are the guild houses.” Irene waved a careless hand. “Centers for the various guilds in the kingdom. Most of the people live in the Wessets — the north and south provinces — and around the lake, down near the border. Not much in the west. Too wild. Except for the desert, which is too hot.”

“How do people get up here and down to the land again? I don't remember seeing any road on the mountain.”

“There is a road, but mostly the only ones who use it are people who want to ride horses up to the city. There's scarcely a horse up here, you'll find.”

“I can see why not. Who'd want to gallop off the edge?”

“Magic keeps the edge safe. As for people sending stuff up and down, the guilds all have Destination places inside. People also go to a Destination down there somewhere, and transfer up here. Clare is putting spells on our medallions for us to transfer up and down on our own. But it's horridly slow, with all she has to do, and I guess the magic is amazingly hard. Seshe said Clair told her it's like building a wall, all with your mind, not with your muscles. But you have to lift every boulder with concentration.”