“And you left her with them? And agreed that Rupert should see her once a year while I cannot? What sort of an agreement is that? Who gave you the right?”
“They’re good people, Bronwyn, really. They’ll look after her,” Carole said placatingly.
“I know they’re good people, you double-crossing witch! I married one of them, didn’t I? But she’s my daughter, and, since the Miragenians have broken their word—”
Rupert did not respond to her words, but held her hand rightly, feeling the guilt behind them as well as the anger, the fear and the anguish and the disappointment. Bronwyn tried to break away from him and slapped at him, but his arms were long enough. He easily kept well out of her reach while still retaining her hand. Finally she let out a huge breath, leaned back against her pillow, and stared at them. A single forlorn tear slid unnoticed through the freckles on her cheek.
“She had a fish tail when you saw her,” Bronwyn continued bitterly. “And a piece of glass in her head. How safe can she be?”
“I know you don’t like the mermaids, Bronwyn, but the ability to turn mer when necessary is a very practical gift in any circumstances. Timoteo said she was perfectly normal again as soon as she was dry,” Carole said.
“Timoteo! Timoteo! He’ll taste my blade if I ever find him, this Timoteo! He’s stolen my little girl. And she’s injured. That piece of glass—”
Rupert stroked her hand with his thumb and after a moment said, “It was crystal, Bronwyn. Magic crystal. And I don’t feel that it was an accident that it struck the baby where and when it did. The giant—our ancestor—I think he meant it as his christening gift. It has powers that may protect her. He was so sorry for all the horror committed in his name, so appalled. I think the crystal shard embedding itself in her forehead was not a chance injury at all, but a deliberate benediction, a mark of favor to guard her. She’ll need guarding, Bronwyn. The gypsies are right about that.”
“That we are,” Xenobia said, sweeping majestically into the room and facing her grandson’s wife with the same imperial air with which she had always faced everything. “You think you can keep her safe? How well have you done so far, eh?”
“You had no right…” Bronwyn began, trying to climb out of bed. Rupert used his great strength as gently as possible to keep her there.
“And you had no right to put her in jeopardy in the first place, giving her to strangers as if she was a stray dog.”
Rupert faced the gypsy woman angrily. “Have you learned nothing as Queen? Do you think she wanted to let the Miragenians have her baby? I was there. We had no choice. Their magic was powerful. Even if they had never made a bargain with Bronwyn, the Miragenians could have taken that child at any time.”
Xenobia looked long into his face. Then, surprisingly, she dropped her gaze. Her elbows, crooked aggressively at her sides, relaxed. “I know. I know. That is why I sent Timoteo. That is why the child must not come back here.” Her eyes met Bronwyns and held them. “Forgive me. I have blamed you for the child’s destiny. I do not read the crystal ball, but I think that this child is no ordinary baby, no ordinary princess. My people are good at hiding, good at lying, good at what it takes to survive the treachery of others. Not that some royal people are not also good at those things, but not you, Bronwyn. You, who were the greatest liar in all Argonia, are too honest for the people who would harm your child. Let us help you, eh?”
Bronwyn bristled, her back braced. Rupert continued to stroke her hand. Suddenly she turned and burrowed into the pillow, her head bobbing up and down. Then as quickly, she turned back.
“But why can Rupert see her and I can’t?”
“Because you would lead her enemies to her. Because, again, you are no longer a good liar. You see?”
Bronwyn glared at her, but nodded sharply. Xenobia left, looking troubled, and neither so pleased nor so sure of herself as she had seemed when she entered the room.
They were interrupted again when the captain of the guard and the commander of the army arrived, but Bronwyn apologized curtly and told them to wait outside before returning her attention to Carole and Rupert.
“What of these enemies of ours? The priests, that skunk thing, and the Mukbar woman?” Bronwyn asked.
“We should cut off trade agreements immediately, of course,” Rupert said. “Miragenia has held Frostingdung in an economic stranglehold of dependency ever since they began commerce. There may be some difficulty, but I think with the problems Mukbar, Mashkent, and Mirza will be undergoing with the loss of their chairman and the trade with Gorequartz, they’ll be much more amenable to reason than before.”
“The Mukbar woman is dead then?” Bronwyn asked.
Rupert shrugged. Carole said cautiously, “I can only say I never saw her come up.”
“And the skunk thing?”
Carole shook her head.
“We’ll have them searched for then. And any remaining priests. If it isn’t safe for my daughter for me to find her, I’ll find her enemies and deal with them instead. I’m sorry I can’t thank you properly for your trouble right now, Rupert, Carole. I know you did a great deal and… well, but I have to do something now, you see, before I go mad. Ask Captain Ironbow and General Gristlebone to come in as you leave, will you?”
* * *
Grippeldice waited for them in the courtyard. Her scales gleamed with an artfully limited range of color both Rupert and Carole found restful.
Rupert was more than glad to have the interview over, its outcome more successful than he had anticipated. The sunshine warmed him to his very bones. “Would you tell my dragon she is looking more beautiful than ever?” he asked.
Carole did so, and gladly, adding her own greetings to Grippeldice to his. “It is so nice to talk with you when I can see you again.”
“No thanks to you,” the dragon said. “You almost turned me into one of those hidebehind things with your blasted pill. I had to fly all the way back to Wizard Raspberry’s castle in Argonia to get the damned thing removed. That’s what took me so long. I figured when my Prince wanted to take up with that skunk creature that my being invisible must be leaving him cold. Once the spell was off, I ran into those flying refugees from a dyepot. They had no quarrel with dragons, so they agreed to be on the lookout for you. I had no idea the sight of my sweet Prince’s face would inflame them with rage that way. I circled the city several times, but I wasn’t even warm. Just couldn’t find you, since I couldn’t see you anywhere. Those things broke into houses saying they were looking, too, but they had fish of their own to fry, I can see now. I had to stop to feed yesterday, and so I found a cozy place in the woods to nap, but when I heard my Prince speaking in that big, booming voice, I fairly smoked out of there. So how about it? Ask him if he’ll come up to my cave sometime.”
She set them down in the courtyard of Queenston Castle, where they barely drew a glance. Queenston was long since used to the dragons.
Rupert bowed low to Grippeldice when her question was relayed to him. “Tell her I’ll be delighted to do so when duty permits. Right now, I’m on my way to the Royal Archives to see Sir Cyril. There’s a little matter of a Rowan’s reputation that needs to be rectified.”
“I have something to add that may interest you,” Carole said, and told him of her dream conversation with Rowan the Recreant.
Rupert stood scratching his head for a moment, his frown uncannily like that of his much-enlarged ancestor. “Oddly enough, I seem to have known that already. Carole, I think I shall forego making myself another rowan shield after all. If I had worn it when poor old Rowan the Recreant wanted to speak through me, I doubt he could have. I knew what he had to say, you see. That’s why I feel that the crystal was a gift. And I seem to know a great many other things about people now— about Timoteo, and Bronwyn, and Xenobia, for instance. Do you understand what I mean? When you were back there in Gorequartz about to be sacrificed, gagged so you couldn’t speak, I felt as if I were you, that I could have spoken almost in your voi
ce and told what you were going through, because I knew. You’re a witch, a priestess. Now you tell me. Is that magic?”
She considered for a moment and nodded. “The bit with Rowan the Recreant certainly was. The other could be, I think.”
“Then that settles it. We Rowans have never been known as particularly magical fellows, but I can’t help wondering if it’s not because we’re always shielded against it. I think I shall be the first to do without and perhaps I may find others who would not ordinarily be able to speak who can do so through me.”
Carole squeezed his arm and said, “Come along then, and tell Sir Cyril the Recreant’s side of things. I’ll join you. I have a christening to record.”
Grippeldice blew a warm little gust of steam. Rupert turned back to scratch her between the eyes. As he did, he felt a warm rush of affection and admiration for himself wash through him. He stared at Grippeldice for a moment and grinned, then hugged her scaley neck. Perhaps it would not be necessary to learn Pan-elvin after all.
About the Author
Elizabeth Ann Scarborough is the author of 24 solo fantasy and science fiction novels, including the 1989 Nebula award winning HEALER’S WAR, loosely based on her service as an Army Nurse in Vietnam during the Vietnam War. She has collaborated thus far on 16 novels with Anne McCaffrey, six in the bestselling Petaybee series and eight in the YA bestselling Acorna series, and most recently, the Tales of the Barque Cat series, Catalyst and Catacombs (from Del Rey). Recently she has converted all of her previously published solo novels to eBooks with the assistance of Gypsy Shadow Publishing, under her own Fortune imprint. Spam Vs. the Vampire was her first exclusive novel for eBook and print on demand publication, followed by Father Christmas (a Spam the Cat Christmas novella) and The Tour Bus of Doom.
WEBSITE:http://www. eascarborough.com
BLOG: http://spamslitterature.wordpress.com/
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/KBDundee
FACEBOOK: http://www.facebook.com/elizabeth.a.scarborough
OTHER: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4811383.K_B_Dundee
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