“Well, yes, and that is unfortunate, but as the Company explained, Miragenia is desert-based and sea-going magic isn’t really in their line of products. It keeps us a bit sealed off from the rest of the world, having the monsters out there, but we really do get on so well with the Company’s help these days that one hardly notices.”
Rupert fell in beside the Baron, asking questions about the castle and its architecture while Rusty said in another aside to Carole, “I swear Gilles is so peace-loving now that things have improved he fails to see the danger in anything. Sometimes I think his father stopped haunting him prematurely, but I can see why the old boy couldn’t take it. It’s ‘the Company’ this and ‘the Company’ that and them owning the gross national product and anything else we might manage to possess from now till the end of the world.”
A thin ribbon of flame shot past Carole’s ear and past Rupert’s ahead of her. She turned to face a glowering dragon. “If you people are quite through with my fascinating companionship, I’ll just cool my heels for a while in the river. I feel the need to freshen up in case the Prince—”
The guards, meanwhile, advanced with snarls and raised spears.
“Oh, dear,” Carole said. “Tell them to stop. They’ll hurt her.”
The Baroness gave the required command but the men-at-arms looked none too happy about obeying. “I’m afraid it won’t do to have a dragon here, Carole. Are dragons the usual form of transport in Argonia these days? Father hasn’t mentioned it in any of his messages.”
“No. Grippeldice developed a fancy for His Highness. She’s actually been quite a lot of help, though I’d rather she’d leave the rest of our task to us and go back to guarding the border. I gather she’s not exactly welcome. Perhaps you can convince her to go away. Your Pan-elvin is better than mine.”
Rusty walked back to Grippeldice and spoke to her quietly for several moments. After a time the dragon circled the castle yard, dipped her wings once in a poignant farewell salute, and sailed off. Rusty returned grinning a rather ghastly pointed-toothed grin.
“I gave her a speech about honoring ones king and country and she told me to mind my own business and not give her any warmed-over platitudes. I do believe she’s going through some sort of dragon’s adolescence. But she did mind when I pulled rank on her and reminded her that there’d be no cattle forthcoming here and that not only my guardsmen but my villagers are very nervous about large beasts and inclined to kill first and question afterwards.”
“Wasn’t that rather harsh?” Rupert asked, blunt in his dismay at losing his voluntary transportation and most ardent admirer.
Rusty looked up her long, pointed nose at him, “Your Highness, my dear young man, you’re unacquainted with the history of this country, I can see. Had the beast remained here, we would have needed to stable her indoors, I’m afraid, for it is quite true that natives of this region fear anything less domestic than a horse or a cow. It is also true that regardless of the Company’s admittedly excellent precautions, we still have creatures even larger and more dangerous than a dragon roaming the wilderness areas by night.”
“Not hidebehinds anymore, however,” Gilles said with a fond look at his wife. “Not around here. They disappeared forever, shortly after Rusty and I married. I do see why the royal family has associated itself with ogresses in the past. Pointed-toothed beauties have abilities not commonly credited to them by most men.”
Rusty blushed. “Gilles, not here.”
A gaggle of stylishly clad ladies appeared at the doorway, ostensibly at the Baroness’s command. They covertly in some cases and not-so-covertly in others, watched Rupert with a certain hungry wistfulness.
“How perceptive of you, girls,” Rusty said to them. “I was about to summon you to show our guests to their rooms.”
“It was the dragon, mum,” said the boldest one, with the squat build and wolverine-translated-into-human face, Frostingdung stock bred true and homely. Her eyes were bright and cunning, flickering from her mistress to Rupert, who acknowledged the attention with one of his more vacant smiles. “We thought it might harm you and—”
“The dragon was in more danger from us than the other way around, as I explained to her.”
A slender young thing with fragile white-gold curls peeking out from a lot of pale blue wisps of veil favored Rupert with a seemingly shy glance made bold only by her kind-hearted concern, which made her eyes larger and bluer than should have been humanly possible. “The poor thing. I just love animals. I would hate to see one mistreated. You must have been very worried about her.”
“He’ll survive, I’m sure,” Rusty said with an amused twitch of one red eyebrow. Carole began to wonder if the dragon was the only one to be endangered by predatory Frostingdungians. Her doubts were confirmed when Rusty suggested the time had come for the guests to freshen for dinner. As one unit, the ladies closed in on Rupert. Carole was escorted to her chamber by the slowest of these, who spent the whole time asking impertinent personal questions about the Prince.
The feast was something of a surprise, too, like nothing Carole had previously experienced in Frostingdung, or in Queenston. The gown the impertinent maid brought her should have been a clue that there would be something unusual about the evening. It folded almost square, with the deep rectangular sleeves extending only slightly beyond the edges of the skirt. The material was blue-green silk so fine Carole’s mind boggled to think how many threads must have gone into the warp to produce so sheer a fabric. The whole dress centered on the square-yoked neck, embroidered heavily with gold-and-silver metallic thread, as were hem, sleeves, and scattered clusters of birds and lily-like flowers. A hair veil accompanied it, in the same richly embroidered fabric, and Carole couldn’t help hoping it would add some warmth. Though Frostingdung’s climate was warmer than Argonia’s, the drafty stone halls were still drafty stone halls, and chilly despite their cheerful tiled mosaic inlays. She slipped into the gown, shivering, and briefly considered wearing her customary woolen garb underneath, but her image in the looking glass warmed her considerably.
The banquet hall was not at all cold, lit with silver braziers and hundreds of wax candles, with fresh blossoms and trays heaped with various foods, nuts, fruits, vegetables, and a great many sorts of meat chopped into pieces and served on mounds of rice. The floors were piled with rugs and the ceiling and walls hung with silken hangings and more rugs. Shields and weapons anchored them at strategic points.
Rusty wore an olive-and-gold garment similar to her own, while Gilles sported sapphire trousers of a full cut, a handsome silver jacket that matched his hair, and a scarlet sash. Rupert was clad all in dark blue satin, with only a strip of white embroidery trimming his jacket. His modest apparel did not keep the eyes of the ladies from him. The guests were seated on cushions opposite their hosts, facing a long, low table on which the food had been arranged.
Rupert was seated on Carole’s right, while on her left sat a swarthy man with black eyes and beard, wearing a robe and head wrap of emerald-and-white-striped wool. Apparently the inappropriately flimsy Miragenian dress was adopted only by the foreigners. The Miragenians still had sense enough to wear the winter versions of their own traditional garb. On Rupert’s other side sat the blond beauty of the morning, who, as it turned out, was a fostering noblewoman from one of the further-flung Frostingdung affiliates. To the lady’s disappointment, Rupert addressed most of his conversation to the Miragenian on Rusty’s left. Pointing with his dagger to the crested shields decorating the hall, he asked, “I note that all seven Frostingdungian states are represented, but I’m not familiar with Miragenia’s shield. Is it among them?”
The Miragenian shook his head and smiled a very white and toothy smile, reminding Carole of a gypsy conducting a horse trade. “No, Your Highness. We have no shield because we are an anarchy, you see, a collection of independent businessmen specializing in the magical, miraculous, and marvelous. We have no central government to boast a crest. Our own company naturally h
as a trademark, but this is more suitable for our products than for military paraphernalia.”
Rupert nodded wisely. When the man’s attention was diverted by the lady on his other side, the prince turned to Carole and asked. “Where is the place, anyway?”
“From what Bronwyn said, I got the distinct impression that it moves,” she told him. “I don’t suppose your new acquaintance would volunteer the information?”
For once Rupert’s diplomatic training came to the fore, countering what she had come to think of as his characteristic naîveté. “I don’t suppose so,” he agreed. “And I also don’t suppose it would be a good idea to speak of our mission in front of them. What do you think?”
The Miragenian on her other side leaned forward to proffer a remark so she nodded and returned her attention to him.
“His Highness and Lady Carole have been expressing interest in the way your company’s products have changed life here in Suleskeria, Samir,” the Baron said to the man beside Carole.
“Truly? Perhaps you would be needing some of the same commodities in your country, Your Highness?” the merchant said.
“Perhaps. I was just wondering what… form your products take.”
“Ah. Many forms. We specialize in spells and potions of all sorts, curses, charms, amulets, talismans, magical beasts, transport, and servants—though the latter items are, as you may guess, rare and costly, and available only to our wealthier clientele.”
The prince gestured in a grand and worldly manner, and said, “Naturally. But could you give us an example say, of something in this room for which your… merchandise is responsible?”
“Why, the feast you see spread before you. Begging the charming Baroness’s’ pardon, but no lady could prepare such a banquet on such short notice without our help.” (Carole scoffed to herself. He had obviously never seen her hearth-witch mother in action.) “The fresh fruits and vegetables were procured by our excellent magical servants, who helped speed the preparation as well, using magic of time and distance available only to such entities as they are.”
“How clever,” Carole said. “Can we meet one of them?”
“Alas, no. They have all been returned to their containers to await further service and they are most retiring by nature. But there would be little to see in any event. They are not particularly intriguing visually. My deepest regrets that that which I control can be of no profit to you in that regard, dear lady.”
“Sir Ahmed and Sir Samir have been doing the most wonderful rehabilitation work with the river monsters, Your Highness,” the blond girl exclaimed in a blushing gush.
“Rehabilitation?” Carole said. “That should please your sister, Princess Daisy Esmeralda, Rusty.”
When Rupert looked puzzled another lady leapt into the breach and elucidated. “The Baroness’s’ elder sister, Empress Lily Pearl, is married to our Emperor Loefwin, Your Highness. Her other sister, Princess Daisy Esmeralda, is married to our Prince Loefrig, the Emperor’s younger brother. Princess Daisy Esmeralda loves animals as I do myself, dear little things. Except monsters, of course.”
The blond girl, not to be outdone, butted in, “She means the monsters these wonderful gentlemen haven’t helped with their restructuring potion. They’ve made many of the nastiest monsters absolutely adorable.”
“And very tasty,” the animal-loving lady added with a smile that showed a pointedness of tooth more pronounced than Baroness’s. The lady quickly hid her smile behind a lace handkerchief and batted her lashes over the edge.
“I seem to have heard that you are acquainted with our homeland, Lady Carole,” Ahmed remarked.
“Now where would you have heard that, I wonder?” Carole asked, deliberately fluttering, something she had learned to do watching the seamstress’s sister, a former dairy maid who now fancied herself a milliner. “A relative of mine once visited your land. Perhaps that’s what you heard. I understand that it was very… exotic.”
“Ah, a relative value, dear lady,” Ahmed replied. “But the exotic is highly esteemed by both Samir and myself as well. That is why we prefer field work as technical representatives to remaining within Company headquarters.”
Rupert proceeded to question them at length about their work, questions which they answered vaguely and with a hint of condescension.
After the feast, when the gentlemen retired to the library for port and pipes, and the ladies, at least Carole and the Baroness, retired to the newly restored alchemy laboratory to watch the retorts bubble with the results of the Baroness’s latest experiment, Carole was able to tell her old friend the real reason for her visit.
“We dare stop only long enough to get a good night’s sleep but I had hoped you might have some clear-cut notion of how we could locate Miragenia.”
“I don’t. But I would very much like to give you a present to take with you for the child. Bronwyn is absolutely correct in assuming her baby will need all the protection she can get. The Miragenians are interested in little but power and profit, from what I can see. Why they should want a child is beyond me, but I’m very glad it isn’t my child.”
Carole nodded gravely and waited.
“The only question now is what it shall be. What would be appropriate, I wonder? I’ve never been good at this sort of thing. What are you giving her?”
“I haven’t decided, to tell you the truth. I thought of giving her that invisibility pill you once made out of hide-behinds when we tried to escape Loefwin’s castle, but the child might swallow it accidentally before she had real need of it and on someone that small, who knows what the proper dosage would be? She might well be lost until she’s fifteen or twenty years old.”
“My dear, if you believe that, your experience of babies is even more limited than mine. They howl most alarmingly if their needs are not attended to. Whether or not she could be seen, if the child was deprived of food or a diaper change for any length of time, she’d make herself highly visible. If I were you, I’d save that capsule for myself. Miragenians are sneaky in the extreme. It won’t hurt to have something on hand that can help you be sneakier. Which gives me an idea. Hand me that parchment over there, will you?”
She sat at a counter for a quarter of an hour, carefully lettering runes onto the parchment with special ink, tossing sand over it to dry it, though it still smeared somewhat, and rolling it up to present to Carole. “There now. That should stand her in good stead.”
“What did you decide on?”
“A hunger for knowledge, a sharp eye for detail, and an avid taste for trouble. Not the usual precious baby gifts, I know, but they’re traits sufficiently related to me that I can pass them on with my blessings. She should give the Miragenians a run for their money, growing up endowed with such a gift. I also added a rudimentary knowledge of Pan-elvin. Coupled with the other, she should have several dialects mastered by the time she’s six or seven. Children tend to be fond of animals; if the people are beastly to her, the company of real beasts may give her some comfort.”
They departed the next morning amid general consternation and a few tears from an uncommonly drowsy-looking lot of lady’s maids, who were not used to arising quite so early but who refused to miss the opportunity to catch Rupert’s eye a final time during his leave-taking. The baronial carriage took the cousins as far as the river, where they boarded a sleek, private sailboat with magic wind, courtesy of the Miragenians.
“Damned decent of them,” Rupert said. “I begin to admire these people, for all their haste in running off with the children of others. Baron Gilles told me some of the most amazing facts concerning their participation in the rebuilding of Frostingdungian magic.”
“Their replacement of it with their own, from what Rusty told me,” Carole replied. “I just hope there’s not a time limit on this wind. The Emperors castle is a good long way from here and I know of no place closer where we might rest for the night.”
Carole found the riverbanks were more densely populated than they had been on her previ
ous visit, and the boat traffic much heavier, but by mid-day their boat had passed beyond those powered by more prosaic means of propulsion and had likewise left behind all but the thinnest habitation.
Alone with none but his cousin to impress, Rupert was quiet and placid, staring contentedly at the shadows of the bare trees striping the sluggish gray-green river, watching the banks for animals, replying to Carole’s occasional sally with a vague smile or a monosyllable. The magic wind ruffled his buttery curls and the sunlight glinted heroic bronze from his face and hands. Carole, to whom the sort of country through which they were passing was no novelty, felt restless, and inclined to be pettish that the youth so full of charming conversation for other females had little to offer her when they were alone. Perhaps his tongue was tired, as well it could be. From what Rusty reported, the Prince had continued to hold forth among the admiring throng long after she had retired.
The sun sank ahead of them, directly in their line of vision, bouncing blindingly off the river. Carole thought they must be approaching a town again, for she heard hoof beats through the woods on the left bank and the rustle of someone or something plowing through foliage closer at hand. Rupert stared straight ahead, into the brilliant light, and seemed not to hear the noises. Though Carole twisted to try to see what was making them, her eyes were too full of spots from peering into the brightness to be able to clearly make anything out. She thought she saw a rapid movement and a wisp of green before Rupert gave a strangled cry and sat bolt upright.
The green wisp transformed itself just in front of the bow, outlining a cool, slender shape against the glare of the sun. The shape undulated seductively before him, beckoning him closer with a wink of a rounded green ray here, a come-hither twitch there, a blink of incandescence, and a wonderful rhythmic crackling of exuberant energy.
To Carole the light was different—green with black bars, the crackle menacing, surrounding her, imprisoning her, threatening her with an overwhelmingly searing jolt if she so much as leaned forward to touch Rupert.
The Christening Quest Page 5