The carriage door swung open. Ben exited, then Wisdom. Trudy found herself stepping down, a wigged footman at each elbow, as she struggled to remember if she should thank them.
No one—such a relief!—paid her the slightest attention. All eyes were on Nonna Ben, Princess Wisdom, and an older woman who cradled a lap dog and without moving her head managed to convey that she was looking down her nose at the newcomers: Duchess Wilhelmina. The entire court, it appeared, was arranged behind the duchess, gilded lanterns illuminating the jewels and gold of their ornaments. Roger beamed at his betrothed.
"Your Majesty. Your Highness." The duchess uttered this without emotion, though several listeners—queen and princess included—stiffened. >
"Your Royal Highness," Roger interjected quickly, stepping forward. He bowed to Nonna Ben and kissed her hand. He kissed Wisdom's and beamed even wider.
Ben dropped her head, ever so slightly, toward Roger. "Your Grace—Your Most Noble Grace—may I proffer our heartfelt apologies for this catastrophe of a journey. I beg forgiveness and pray you take no insult from it, for 'twas the elements and the gods, not ill intent, that delayed us so."
The queen mother's words hung in the air. The crowd—or so Trudy sensed; certainly she held her breath—waited to observe how the duchess would react to such eloquent and earnest regret.
The silence was shattered, most abruptly, by Wilhelmina's terrier, who barked and squirmed for release, glaring behind Trudy. Turning with the others to ascertain the basis of this canine fury, Trudy observed Escoffier leisurely descending the carriage steps, his tail in the air.
"Think nothing of it," said the duchess, responding at last to Nonna Ben. "We would that you—valued safety—over speed"—here struggling to maintain her grip on the dog.
Tail swaying, Escoffier strolled to Ben's feet and sat. He licked one paw.
"How kind of you; your mercy speaks well of Farina, and the empire," Ben continued—her voice raised over the dog's hysterical barking, though her regal tone did not change.
The dog howled, and squirmed like a hooked fish, while Wilhelmina clung to his jeweled collar. Behind her, several members of her court were suddenly taken ill, or so it seemed from the coughing that broke out. Duke Roger—quite handsome, Trudy thought; even statelier than his representation—stroked his mustache repeatedly, and with unusual force.
Oh, Trudy realized at last, they're not sick: they're simply trying not to laugh! From the corner of her eye, Trudy could see Wisdom clenching her jaw, and the knuckles of the princess's fists were so white that her fingernails must have sliced her palms. Yet she otherwise remained serene—inordinately serene—and neither queen nor duchess, in voice or visage, gave the slightest acknowledgment of the great charade taking place between them.
"When word came of your approach, Your Majesty," Wilhelmina explained loudly, over the barking, "We were en route to the circus grounds to enjoy a performance by His Imperial Majesty's private troupe. We beg you join us..." The terrier twisted in her hands.
Escoffier took this opportunity to yawn—the longest yawn Trudy had ever observed. His pink tongue curled and his white teeth gleamed, and just for a moment, as his jaws closed, he looked straight into the eyes of the dog.
At once the yapping trebled in volume.
Ben smiled serenely. "That would be lovely." She turned to Trudy. "Lady Fortitude, perhaps you might attend to our trunks? It has been such a long journey—"
At last the terrier, losing control completely, bit Duchess Wilhelmina. She dropped it with a hiss. At the same instant, Escoffier leapt into Trudy's arms.
"Also, see that the cat's fed, will you?" With that, the queen swept her gown away from the lunging dog and took Roger's elbow. "I did not know you had circus grounds, Your Grace," she murmured, sounding perhaps too sincere. "I am quite curious to observe them..."
Quickly a nobleman stepped up to escort Wisdom, who engaged the man in a conversation on their travels, which, she assured him, had passed without incident.
Rubbing her wrist, Wilhelmina sent her pet a dagger-eyed glare before stomping to the front of the procession, the glittering crowd behind her. Several footmen circled the little dog, none too keen to approach, and when Trudy tried to nudge the dog away from her precious skirts, it snapped at her ankle.
Escoffier adjusted his position in Trudy's arms and blinked at her. Trudy was quite convinced that had he been human, he would have been laughing.
Memoirs of the Master Swordsman
FELIS EL GATO
Impresario Extraordinaire ♦ Soldier of Fortune
Mercenary of Stage & Empire
LORD OF THE LEGENDARY
FIST OF GOD
Famed Throughout the Courts and Countries of the World
&
The Great Sultanate
* THE BOOTED MAESTRO *
WRITTEN IN HIS OWN HAND~ALL TRUTHS VERIFIED~
ALL BOASTS REAL
A Most Marvelous Entertainment,
Not to Be Missed!
***
I MUST HERE RELAY a singular incident that transpired whilst we domiciled in Froglock. Unfortunately the vast responsibilities of my position—for by this point I was nothing less than second in command, which Emperor Rüdiger IV himself called me, in the presence of bystanders—did not allow me to observe this event directly. The repeated recountings by others, however, over many weeks subsequent, permit me to relay the tale within these pages.
From the moment of our entry into Froglock, we had heard talk of Wisdom of Montagne, the princess betrothed to the Duke of Farina, whose arrival had been much delayed; rumors swirled that the royal delegation had been sickened en route. At last they were sighted, and when their carriage that dusk passed through the gates of the palace of Phraugheloch, 'twas a dusty and mediocre showing it made.
Anticipating their entrance, Dowager Duchess Wilhelmina assembled a welcoming party in the palace courtyard. I myself could never speak ill of such a noble and handsome woman and have sought to defend her from various slanders, such as how she kept her youngest son in military service in hopes that his death would gain her more land, which is a vicious falsehood I would never under pain of torture repeat. Froglock's more critical citizens similarly whispered that in orchestrating this public greeting, Wilhelmina sought to put Montagne's dishevelment—inevitable after a journey of such length, and so ill-fortuned—to her own advantage. Moreover, in greeting the queen mother while standing, the duchess would circumvent the convention of offering one's seat to royalty, a point of protocol which the woman—or so her unsympathetic subjects implied—particularly resented.
The carriage came to a rest, and the two Montagne royals and their lady-in-waiting exited its confines—again, I only quote the witnesses there present—in remarkably good form given the stress of many days' travel and the speed with which they had hurried. The usual pleasantries commenced but were interrupted almost at once when a sable-haired cat emerged from the coach to join his mistress, the queen mother. The duchess as it transpired was holding her own small terrier, which promptly and in the inevitable manner of its breed attempted, with much vocalizing, to leave her grip and pursue the feline.
The duchess—here again I only repeat others' reports and in no way seek to impugn the nobility of Her Most Noble Grace—was thus presented with a dilemma of no small significance. Were she to acknowledge the misbehavior of the creature sounding in her arms, she would be forced in the most literal manner to retreat before her rival in order to remove the offending creature. Therefore she ignored the disturbance, which increased by the moment as the cat, via an escalating series of provocations that appeared to be almost intentional, drove the dog to near madness. Only a corpse could have been expected to maintain composure in the face of such hilarity, and while no member of the duchess's retinue lost complete control, it would be many hours before the last of them was fit for presentation, and a month at least before the dog—a great favorite of the duchess's, sadly—could appear in pub
lic without upsetting the solemn equilibrium of the court.
The queen mother and princess of Montagne, on the other hand, emerged from this skirmish unscathed (as, I might note, did the cat). Intimations of witchcraft had shadowed Benevolence of Montagne since her girlhood, and though I myself would never heed such denigrations, the uncanny and artfully timed behavior of the black cat did nothing to still the tongues of those gullible or instigative enough to fuel such hearsay. Yet even those of us too wise to swallow tales of sorcery recognized that the queen departed the scene of battle as the unquestioned victrix.
The Imperial Encyclopedia of Lax
8TH EDITION
Printed in the Capital City of Rigorus
by Hazelnut & Filbert, Publishers to the Crown
CIRCUS PRIMUS
Of all the achievements of Emperor Rüdiger IV, none was so memorable as Circus Primus. A lifelong passion for this entertainment led Rüdiger while still a lad to found a small circus for the entertainment of the imperial staff. In time he developed this private pleasure into a tool of statehood, challenging various fiefs and federation members to outdo each other within the ring. Controversies that in other reigns would have escalated to warfare now resolved themselves without bloodshed, though concussions and fractures were admittedly rife, and even the most recalcitrant of his vassals found themselves forced to accommodate and provision the ensemble. Circus Primus hosted myriad notable artists, including Raphael the Dancing Otter, the Flying Garbanzo Brothers, and the Elephantine Stiltdancers. Without question, however, the best-remembered performance remains the Globe d'Or, gifted to the emperor by the Sultan of Ahmb. This metallic hot-air balloon—allegedly gold, and ensorcelled —promptly became the centerpiece of the circus and proved so popular that the emperor would credit its powers of diversion in the suppression of two rebellions. In addition to the requisite basket that the balloon hoisted midair, the Globe d'Or served as platform for acrobats such as the Master of Air, a skydiver of peerless artistry, and the Blind Men of Mince juggling act. It was said that the emperor loved Globe d'Or more than his five sons, as they together could not lift him as high as did this marvelous balloon. Following the emperor's death, Circus Primus disbanded, many of its employees finding continued fame with other troupes or in other livelihoods.
>
A Missive from Tips
THE BOOTED MAESTRO
Dear Trudy,
We are home in Farina—in the city of Froglock! I almost cried when I saw puddles again, I was so happy—the desert is much too awful not for me! Its nice to know youre only one days very long horse ride away— You know that I hope you know I would visit if I could, but its just too dangerous. Besides I have no time, we are working day + night without rest.
Yesterday we were crossing the Daft Bridge into Froglock—we have a very long proccession parede parade as the circus grows with every place we visit!—+ the river was so high + fearsome because of the flooding, + one of the camel mares (we have camels too now, another gift from the sultan) panicked + started pounding down the bridge knocking people left + right—camels are very tall + very fast so you can imagine how frightful it was, partickul particularly with everyone screaming. Luckily I was walking marching some ways ahead + could see her coming, + before I really had time to think I was standing on the bridge railing so I could jump on her, + as I was sailing thru the air I was thinking how much better this experience would be if you were with me here to see me safe! But I did manage to land on her more or less, + then climbed up her back which must be like climbing a sea serpent she was thrashing so much, + finally got her eyes covered—not easy at that speed!—+ luckily she calmed down. Poor Felis didnt know whether to scold me for endangering my talents or praise me for saving so many lives—so he comprimized made do by simply patting me on the back +I was so covered in bruises I yelped! You wouldve laughed so hard if youd heard me.
Do you remember how you used to watch for Hans when we played by the mill? + how you cried when you first set eyes on saw Felis, but you said I had to go with him anyway? I still think about that, + how signifikant important that day was.
I will see you again someday I am sure, I just dont know when it might be years Im afraid before I make it back to Bacio. I miss you I dont miss Bacio I do not care for any of the ladies I meet as much as I care for you + how nice you have always been to me—
—Tips
A Life Unforeseen
THE STORY OF FORTITUDE OF BACIO, COMMONLY KNOWN AS TRUDY, AS TOLD TO HER DAUGHTER
Privately Printed and Circulated
TRUDY UNPACKED as hastily as she could manage, desperate to go find Tips. To have this opportunity emerge—so fortuitously!—within minutes of her arrival in Froglock ... She might never have such a possibility again.
Hasty, however, by no means meant slapdash, particularly given the complexity of the luggage, their accommodations, and the palace staff. As the maître du palais—a butler, Trudy gathered, not that she had any experience with such a profession—led her and Escoffier through the corridors in a parade of servants toting Montagne luggage, he explained the history and importance of the suite in which they were being installed, speaking to her as a peer, which—she realized belatedly—would be more than a little presumptuous if Trudy were in fact titled, and she was pleased to note that her blithe disregard for his familiarity greatly irked the man. Trudy's mother had always warned her that ignorance never blesses a tongue, and Trudy now discovered the truth of this adage; the maître du palais misinterpreted her silence as clever feint, and his arrogance decayed into a fawning that increased with every passing minute.
Even if she had known what to say, however, Trudy would not have had energy to speak, so engrossed was she in the embellishments, garnishes, gildings, and objets d'art that mantled the palace's every surface. Draperies and paintings, carpets thick enough to hide a snake, chandeliers and candelabras, vases and flowers and great potted palms ... What must these things have cost? And who was the poor soul assigned to dusting? How marvelous it would be to describe it to Tips! She smiled to herself (thus escalating the maître du palais's bluster) at the thought of Tips sending his letters to faraway Bacio—perhaps even now penning words she would not read for many days hence, until the real ladies-in-waiting, restored to health, made their way at last to Froglock and she could return to her gilt-free life in Alpsburg.
The actual task of unpacking proved easier than Trudy had anticipated, for three palace maids labored over the trunks, occasionally asking where Her Highness or Her Majesty wished an item. Trudy answered their queries to the best of her ability, reminding herself that Nonna Ben would graciously tolerate any mistakes and that Wisdom probably didn't care. She agreed that Her Majesty desired warm milk before retiring (Trudy would drink it if Nonna Ben didn't) and that Her Highness would want a bath at, oh, eight o'clock the next morning.
At last the maids finished—Trudy certain she would never locate a single item in that maze of rooms and wardrobes and chests of drawers—and withdrew. With a start she wondered if she should have tipped them. Certainly she would have expected recompense for such a service, but this was palace staff, not paid lodging, and besides she had no coins to offer.
There was so much, so very much, she did not know. Almost everything, in fact.
For example: could she walk through the palace confines unescorted? And if so, should she cover herself ? Trudy certainly did not relish the thought of traipsing about with her hair and much of her chest exposed. Peering out the windows, she espied several women, and the fashion did seem inclined toward bare heads and décolletage. She sighed. At least she was spared the trouble of locating an appropriate wrap, for her old cloak (held with two fingers by the maid who unpacked it) had no place over such a gown, and she would never wear one of the queen's.
Checking to ensure Escoffier was safe—he had dismissively sniffed at a dish of chopped meat before curling up in the middle of a vast white bedspread—and that Tips's emeralds were still safe in
her ears, Trudy departed the suite, copying as best she could the nonchalant confidence of the gentlewomen she had observed.
Within minutes, she was hopelessly lost, her sight completely unobliging. Where the guards were housed she had not a clue, she now realized, nor whether Tips would even be present. Was there a separate location for imperial guards? If Tips was on duty—and given the descriptions of his long shifts, Trudy had no reason to suspect otherwise—would she be able to locate him? Would he even be able to speak to her? Perhaps he would not even recognize her! Now that she dwelled on the matter, Trudy was not sure she would recognize him—it had been six years, after all, since his departure from Bacio. Dark hair, brown eyes, long lashes, yes, but he was not a child anymore.
Yet she persevered, all too aware that the moment might never return. Descending every staircase she encountered, Trudy presently found herself in the cavernous kitchens, where the harried staff moved around her blue skirts as if Trudy were only ill-placed furniture. A life of toil had left the lass not entirely without resources, and her eyes alighted on a column of porters unloading vegetables. She trailed the empty-handed fellows down a passageway and presently found herself in a service courtyard where great wagons of foodstuffs rolled up and a fishmonger scraped ice from a pyramid of glassy-eyed mackerel.
On the theory that guards need horses and horses need roads, Trudy headed out the gate and soon enough caught sight of a phalanx of uniformed men. Acutely aware of her low neckline and conspicuous hair, Trudy, as she approached, braced herself for the men's leers. Yet the appraising eyes that greeted her arrival brimmed with admiration, not lechery.
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