The Unicorn Creed

by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough

  “You know very well the Princess can’t give you a straight answer, Mother, but it’s my belief that she was attacked by the Duke of Droughtsea. His sword was lying broken on the ground when we arrived. I believe,” she continued, looking straight into her mother’s eyes, “that someone must have put him up to it. But Bronwyn won’t be able to bear witness against him so that we can clear the matter up unless you remove the curse you put on her.”

  Belburga was coy. “Curse? But, Ruby-Rose, my darling girl, your journey must have worn you out to the point of distraction. A curse is a form of magic. I have no magic.”

  “Haven’t you?”

  Belburga carefully avoided her daughter’s eyes and Rusty sighed. “Well, that’s a pity, I suppose, since it will be difficult to punish Droughtsea. But on the other hand, I’m sure the Emperor won’t let anything happen to Bronwyn once I tell him my suspicions. He has plans that would make her demise extremely inconvenient, to say the least.” She turned to Bronwyn, who was beginning to wonder who the cursed one was around here anyway, and said in a world-weary way. “Bronwyn dear, I’m afraid there’s no way to let the Emperor know your true feelings on the matter he was discussing with you. I know you’re quite young still but—”

  “But what?” Belburga’s predatory eyes pounced on each of them in turn. “What’s that soft-headed son-in-law of mine up to now? Is he planning to betray my Lily-Pearl?”

  “Oh, no, Mother, I wouldn’t put it so harshly. But he is getting on towards middle age and you know how men are then, and Bronwyn has a substantial inheritance and in her present condition is unable to rule alone. What could be more natural than that King Roari would seek an alliance?”

  “But the Emperor is a married man and she’s scarcely potty trained! Besides, Loefwin hardly knows the Rowans.”

  “Loefwin knows that Argonia still has food. And wives have been set aside—or worse—before, for political reasons. Why make such a fuss? I’m sure he’ll provide for Lily-Pearl and you, of course, though you won’t want to live in the palace since it would be too awkward under the circumstances.”

  “Yes,” Bronwyn said, “Don’t worry, ma’am, I’d see to it that you and the Empress got your gruel twice a day and a nice piece of monster now and then. And when I’m done with a gown, why, just think, it’ll make one for each of you!”

  “Wait—let me think.” Belburga put her finger to her chin and cocked her head in what was supposed to be a pensive gesture. “Not that I have personally ever done anything so vulgar as you suggest, but perhaps, just perhaps, I remember something from my genteel education that might be of use to the poor girl.”

  “I’d be ever so glad for any crumb of wisdom you could share, ma’am,” Bronwyn said as demurely as she could.

  “You shall certainly have it,” Belburga replied in a sweet voice that was still buying time, accompanied by a smile full of daggered teeth. “How sad for you to be the object of such a sordid political barter.”

  “Pity you couldn’t have been so solicitous when you provided the sorcerer with the curse that got her into this mess.” Rusty smiled an equally toothy smile.

  Dame Belburga saw from her daughter’s expression that she’d better move smartly along to her next tactic, and she sank to a brocaded couch which had formerly held only a bit of embroidery in ivory hoops. The ogress passed her bent wrist across her spit-curl-adorned brow. “But, precious, what would you have had Mother do? That wretched wizard and his bandits were all about us. What help was there except her wits for a poor but still attractive widow with three beautiful, vulnerable daughters? I was forced to do his bidding to save our honor. Ruby-Rose, you’ll simply never know the sacrifices Mother has made for you.”

  “Well, Mama, now you can make one or two more and I do promise this time to be properly grateful if only you’ll get a move on. Loefwin isn’t Emperor because of his patience, you know. And I’ll promise you this too: the sooner you help us, the sooner we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “I’m glad you are promising, dear,” Belburga said with a spiteful jab at Bronwyn, “or I wouldn’t believe a word of it. How does it feel, Miss Princess, you with your palace and your pretty mama and rich papa to know you’re such a deceitful person no one can possibly ever care for you, any more than they’re likely to believe you when you tell them the curse is lifted?”

  “Fine,” Bronwyn said, wishing she could run the woman through.

  “Bronwyn might well ask you how it feels to be one of the reasons people might wish to stamp out magic in Argonia as they’ve done here,” Rusty told her mother.

  “As they think they’ve done here,” Belburga spat back.

  “You’re not the only one who can get nasty, Mama,” Rusty said quietly. “I’ve developed certain talents of my own under Father’s tutelage.”

  “That weakling wouldn’t teach you anything really potent.”

  “Wouldn’t he?” Rusty laughed Belburga’s own laugh and Bronwyn stared at her, startled. “No, he wouldn’t teach me how to use power against you, but then, he needn’t. I’m your daughter too, after all. Are you interested in my career. Mama? I’ve learned some of Father’s skill with disguises, you see, except that I do it differently, quicker and more convincingly and—and I can turn into things that aren’t very nice, Mama. But I can do more than Father because I can also turn other people into things that aren’t very nice. How would you like to wake up looking like one of the sea monsters, Mama, or—oh, maybe have the head of one of those bat things staring at you in that lovely dressing table mirror one morning? You never know.”

  “Very well. You don’t need to give yourself airs, my girl. They’re most unbecoming. You never were the sweet child your sisters were. That’s why I left you.”

  “The curse, Mama.”

  “I don’t have it. She’ll have to consult the firm from which I purchased it and—”

  “Firm?”

  “Certainly. I met their representative at one of my family reunions. I’ve traded with them ever since.”

  “And where is this firm located?” Rusty sounded increasingly skeptical.

  “Not here, of course. There’s no magic here, as I keep trying to tell you.”

  “Where?”

  “I couldn’t say. You don’t think I go to Miragenia every time I want some teensy little ensorcellment, do you? Not on your life, darling daughter. I always just put in an order and they send them by return courier.”

  “What’s Miragenia?” Bronwyn asked.

  “A country,” Belburga said. “It’s where I always send the orders.”

  “This is all very interesting, Mother,” Rusty said. “But what we need to know is who exactly is personally responsible for Bronwyn’s curse.”

  “Goodness, dear, do you think Mother knows everything? I haven’t the foggiest idea. You and all these scruffy children will simply have to go to Miragenia and find out who’s responsible, won’t you, if you ever want Miss Priss here to come clean?”

  “Have I ever told you, Mother, what a thoroughly unpleasant woman you are?”

  “Why, no, darling. I didn’t know you cared. But really, though I must admit you’ve never been my particular favorite, I must say that of all of you girls, you seem to be the one who takes after me the most.”

  Rusty ignored the last remark. “You’ll have to arrange transportation to this Miragenia place, Mother.”

  “I? Arrange the matter with my son-in-law. He would be glad to help her get to Miragenia if only so he could find it himself.”

  “You mean he can’t find it? Where is it?” Rusty was rapidly losing whatever patience she had once possessed.

  “Across the border somewhere. But it’s a magical country and Loefwin doesn’t believe in it so he couldn’t find it. He conquered all the ones he did believe in.”

  “Is it close then?” Bronwyn asked.

  “There are a few mountains and a bit of a desert but that should give you no problem, a great big girl like you. It’s the fliers
and the hidebehinds that will do you in. Now then, why don’t you get started and leave me alone? I’ve been more than cooperative.”

  “You’ve been more than evasive,” Rusty countered. “But I suppose if you’re not to be cured, Bronwyn, you’re not. Loefwin will be glad of that at any rate.”

  Belburga had momentarily forgotten that aspect of her daughter’s argument. “Very well. You’ve made your point and as both Loefwin and Droughtsea are incompetent fools, I suppose there’s no other way. But if I give Her Highness here the seven-league boots so she can go to Miragenia, you must promise to trouble me no further about the matter. I don’t want to see you, her, or those other grubby urchins ever again or I will expose you to Loefwin for the cheap witch you are if it ruins us all.”

  * * *

  Bronwyn had been traveling alone half a day when she remembered the advantages of having companions. Carole might get cross, but her magic had provided the fish. Rusty had raided the kitchen while her mother was fetching the boots, but a crock of porridge was hardly enough to satisfy the appetite worked up by seven-league walking. Bronwyn had eaten all of it within the first two hours. She missed Jack sorely too, and wondered what he would think of her just taking off like this, without him. Rusty hadn’t given her the chance to say goodbye. She was afraid her mother would change her mind if Bronwyn wasn’t ready when the ogress returned with the boots.

  Walking in the boots was a chore all by itself. Bronwyn was used to being tall, but it was alarming how each step picked her up off the ground, carried her over seven leagues of Frostingdungian forest or barren foothills, and set her down again, sometimes rather jarringly, since she couldn’t see through the trees to where she was setting her feet down. She kept to the uninhabited lands for fear of stepping on someone and crushing them.

  The boots were Argonian of course, of elvin manufacture. Belburga had gotten them from the bandit who had deprived Loefwin of them. Where the Emperor had acquired the boots and why he, who claimed to despise magic, had possessed them, the ogress hadn’t bothered to explain. The upshot was that the boots had been left with her, since the bandit who had taken them was a werewolf and had no need of such things. When Loefwin had spirited Lily-Pearl’s mother and sister away with him as well as Lily-Pearl, Belburga had somehow felt the boots might come in handy. She said she now wished she’d thrown them in the moat, but the Tape couldn’t be trusted not to carry tales.

  But Bronwyn was glad Belburga hadn’t tossed the boots, cramped and uncomfortable as they were. They took her very quickly across Loefwin’s miserable domain. So quickly, in fact, that she created her own wind. Mistress Raspberry had fortunately remembered that winter was on its way, and had loaned Bronwyn the olive cloak, for which the Princess was now profoundly grateful. Soon the wind she made by her swift passage was joined by a rising north wind, and the clouds conspired to form a solid white ceiling overhead.

  At least the snowflakes seemed to discourage the flying monsters, and maybe the others as well. This was more than mildly fortunate, since Bronwyn had had to leave her shield behind so it wouldn’t counteract the spell in the boots. She hadn’t liked doing that, but then, she didn’t like the thought of being a liar the rest of her life either. But when night fell and she kept jogging along, far too excited and also too cold to sleep, she was unmolested.

  By the time she reached the foothills it was morning. Both the hills and the mountains beyond were covered on the Frostingdungian side with a light coating of snow that indeed made them look exactly like frosted dung heaps. But one more step took her to the other side, where the mountains were clear and the cloud cover lifted to reveal sky of an unexpectedly harsh hot blue and leagues of stony hills followed by leagues more of rock and sand. Bronwyn stepped out onto the sand and suddenly felt she could not possibly take another step. The swift change from cold to heat wearied her more than her march. Hoping that being free from the Frostingdungian forests meant she was also free from the denizens of Frostingdungian forests, she flung herself onto the sand and fell into an exhausted sleep.

  She dreamed home wasn’t there any more—that the palace, the city, the shipyards, were all just empty shore with nothing but the wind-tossed waves touching a weed-grown rocky beach. She saw herself running, looking for anyone, but she couldn’t seem to find her parents or Uncle Binky or Jack or Aunt Maggie. Once, though, when she called and called, she heard a laugh behind her and turned to see Docho Droughtsea snapping the thongs of his senyaty between his fists.

  The dream was so upsetting she woke early. She was sweating beneath the wool cloak, and she ached all over, but she was very glad to be awake for all that—until she looked around her, and began to wonder if she were truly awake after all.

  Her sword was still buckled to her side and the boots felt welded to the skin of her swollen feet. But the entire landscape had changed. No mountains, no foothills, no rocks—just sand. She wasn’t even sure in which direction the mountains lay. She stretched her legs and instantly was transported, horizontally, many sand dunes from where she woke up. What in the Mother’s name, she wondered, then realized that she must have been really running, or at least moving her feet, in her dream, and that the boots had carried her forward just as if they’d been flat on the ground.

  She was terribly thirsty too, and when she tried to stand she found it was more than she could bear. “There’s no one around out here,” she told herself. “It will be perfectly safe to remove the boots while I rub my feet and let the swelling go down.”

  And though the sand was as hot as a dragon’s breath, the easing of her toes made it bearable. It felt so good, in fact, that she thought she might just go back to sleep again, with the boots tucked safely under her head instead of on her feet where they could hurt her and wander off with her when she wasn’t looking. So she slept. When she woke she was understandably vexed. Even when she wasn’t wearing the boots, the stupid scenery wouldn’t stay put!

  * * *

  Docho Droughtsea listened with his usual sangfroid to the ogress’s rantings. He didn’t mind listening to her. He found her most attractive when she was being her natural, undiluted self.

  “Imbecile!” she shrieked. “Because of your incompetence I’ve been humiliated and disgraced by my own ingrate child! Do you realize you have made me disclose an important business connection, not to mention that in doing so I have very nearly been exposed to that namby-pamby Loefwin as a trafficker in magic?”

  “Tsk, tsk,” the Duke said without any sympathy whatsoever. “I don’t see what you’re complaining about. You’re not the only one who knows about Miragenia. Your daughter would have found out sooner or later. And who knows when, or in what condition the Argonian giantess will return from there?” He yawned deeply and sprawled beside her on the brocaded couch where she had remained, ostensibly half fainting with shock and dismay, since he’d first answered her summons. “Besides, you won’t need to worry about who Loefwin fancies soon. You’d better keep that washed-out witch he’s married to now out of sight for a while.”

  “Why, whatever do you mean?” she asked, scooting over to make room for him and batting her spiky lashes flirtatiously. He really did prefer her in a temper.

  “I was just wondering whether it really made any difference to you which of your daughters was Empress?”

  “You surely don’t mean that poor frog Daisy’s married to is planning—?”

  Droughtsea nodded. “With my help. We agreed a pragmatic woman of your talents might be of great use right now. Though, if you choose to remain loyal to Loefwin. . .”

  “That milksop! Not bloody likely. But where, my dear Duke, do you come in?” She arched her neck in what she hoped was a winning manner, and several of her wrinkles smoothed themselves obligingly.

  “I expedite matters, you might say, dear lady. Like yourself, I have certain unsuspected talents—” He frowned. “I have one less since I broke my sword on Her Highness’s shield this afternoon. That sword had special—er—properties. It
will cost you dearly to replace that, madam—since I attempted to do away with the girl at your bidding. I have nothing against her myself. She’ll make an excellent hostage in fact.”

  “Ah! Yes, I do recall Ruby-Rose mentioning that your sword shattered. Be wary, Docho darling,” she said, and he noted with amusement that their intimacy was growing by leaps and bounds. “My daughter may be a snip but she knows magic when she sees it. I hardly think it discreet of you to wield a sword of power in her presence.”

  He rose and bowed. “I wasn’t wielding it so much as breaking it, actually, but I’ll heed your warning. And put your troublesome daughter where she can do us no harm.”

  “And those other awkward brats as well. I don’t care if you feed them all to Daisy’s monster.”

  “Consider the matter attended to,” he said, reassuringly if vaguely. He had neither the time nor the inclination to discuss with her the plans he already had for the Argonians, but in this magic-poor place, he had no intention of unnecessarily wasting all that talent.

  * * *

  Carole sat on the edge of the fountain and fumed while Anastasia zoomed around the statue of the octopus spouting water into the pool. The nerve of Bronwyn to just run off without them after they’d come all this way to help her. If Rusty hadn’t been considerate enough to tell them what had happened they’d have both been beside themselves with worry.

  Not only that, but it was incredibly dreary in this gloomy castle. How she ever could have thought it beautiful was beyond her. Guards stood at practically every doorway, forbidding a person to go anywhere. You couldn’t go out into the city because you had to get across the drawbridge and past the officious Tape to do that. And now it was blowing snow outdoors and too cold to make expeditions to adjoining buildings inviting. Without even a tasty dinner to look forward to, it was almost too much to be borne. The only useful thing she could think of to do was sit here and keep Anastasia company so someone didn’t snatch the swan up and eat her. Carole had to admit, if she hadn’t known Anastasia’s true identity, the bird would have looked tempting by now.