Murmurs around me made my shoulders hunch toward my ears. Desperate, I gazed into the glass itself. For a moment, I stared at my face, wide-eyed and pale, at Fiona’s elaborate old-fashioned gown. Then the image changed to shifting shades of blue shot with glimmers of gold and tiny rainbows. I thought of fish scales flashing in the sun or dancing patterns of pool water; they came closer, closer, rising as the tide, drawing me in… Suddenly, somehow, I was drowning in the light. Everywhere I looked, it surrounded me, and no matter how I moved, I couldn’t escape it.
I awakened in Fiona’s bed. I tried to rise at once, but my swimming head forced me back to the rock-hard pillows.
A face appeared above me: Queen Arencaster, as unruffled as I’d ever seen her. Still, she was here, wasn’t she? She could have left me to Faxon. “I am relieved to see you have revived.”
“What happened?”
“A blue light shone out of the mirror when you lifted it.”
I didn’t remember that part. Probably it happened when I was looking at the pretty colors inside the glass.
“You fainted shortly afterward, and I had the servants bring you upstairs.”
Not the best ending for a party, I thought. “Was the blue light what the mirror does when Fiona messes with it?”
“No.” Queen Arencaster knit her brows in concentration. “The fact that you were able to use a mirror’s magic was most unexpected.”
I twisted the covers. “I can’t believe you didn’t stop Lady Lavinia from starting all that mirror racket.”
“That would have looked suspicious. If you couldn’t work the mirror magic, I was just going to tell them your enchantment must be preventing you,” Queen Arencaster said nonchalantly.
I made a mental note not to play poker with the queen. To think she’d had this strategy in mind the entire time, and I’d never known!
“I think it best that you study magic at Valeriya Tower for a time,” Queen Arencaster said. “You can’t be too careful with magic; used incorrectly, it can be dangerous. And…knowledge of how to use it can further cement your disguise as my daughter.”
My head spun a little faster with all this new information. “Where is this tower?”
“You will begin by journeying to the capital city of Ceredwyn.”
Chapter Seven
Valeriya
The next morning, Queen Arencaster had me and several trunks of Fiona’s belongings loaded into a private carriage that would take me to the capital city of Ceredwyn. Seven guards, also on horseback, accompanied the driver, four horses, and me. While Tolliver rode with them, Faxon did not.
We followed the bumpy road out of Autumnstead to the rougher ones at the periphery of the Latule lands. Listening to the guards, I learned that as princess, it was actually my right to cut through Latule lands when traveling, with or without prior notice. However, Queen Arencaster always asked permission. “Latule is a full pot ready to boil over,” one guard murmured. “Queen Arencaster knows that to draw breath the wrong way is to invite their wrath.”
Personally I thought the queen’s uncompromising standards for following rules and protocols had something to do with it.
All told, such talk gave the journey an ominous feeling. After hearing it, I would be glad to reach Ceredwyn, despite the beautiful scenery. Clouds had moved in, and against their backdrop of pearl gray, the fiery hues of the woods blazed.
Unfortunately, this route added a good hundred miles to our trip. And soon, the realities of this medieval road trip set in. The carriage was not the most luxurious, I suppose to avoid the attention of robbers or worse on the road. Or maybe Queen Arencaster, with her pointedly simple tastes, had specifically chosen the drab exterior and cramped interior. If I’d known in advance how bouncing for miles on the hard wooden seat would affect my posterior, I would’ve brought a pillow. After twenty miles or so, no position I assumed — and I tried some creative ones with the curtains drawn — was comfortable.
Then there was the issue of bathroom breaks. All the guards on horseback were men. And I was still “enchanted.” I couldn’t exactly yell out when I needed to go. (Not that I would have. So embarrassing!) I had thought to complete the journey without stopping. But as time and miles bumped past, I began to worry about losing control in the carriage. What to do? My attempts at a better seating position had made me aware of the carriage contained no internal storage. My trunks were lashed to the top. It might be a good innovation to keep a chamber pot in a carriage, I thought. Maybe an internal compartment could be added to keep it discreet.
Genius inventions weren’t going to relieve my bladder, however. I reached into the pocket of Fiona’s travel dress and pulled out her handkerchief. The corners were embroidered with a sprawling script F woven with vines and flowers. I pushed back the curtains and waved it like a flag. The rider nearest me brought his horse up closer. “Yes, Princess?” he shouted.
Inwardly, I groaned, recognizing he was completely oblivious to what I wanted.
“Stop!” I mouthed, just stopping a wild urge to giggle. This was beyond awkward!
Toliver came alongside him.
I couldn’t hear them over the carriage wheels and horses hooves, so I imagined what they might be saying.
“It appears the lady needs to stop.” That was Tolliver. Thank goodness for our ride yesterday. It was good to have him looking out for me. So long as it stayed appropriate, of course. Actually, I was surprised he was helping me after I dropped the Gerry anvil on him yesterday.
The other rider threw one hand up in a gesture that meant that disgust in both medieval and modern times. “Do we have to?”
Tolliver said something to insist.
“Women and their child-sized bladders!” I envisioned the rider muttering. Truthfully, I wasn’t being fair to the rider. All his lines were from conversations I’d had with Gerry during car trips.
The good thing about riding by carriage — one of very few — was that it didn’t take long to stop. There was no exiting the freeway and suffering for another 15 minutes hoping to see a fast food place.
The footman, who doubled as our driver, opened the carriage door for me. I stumbled out on cramped legs. Why hadn’t I called a halt sooner? The moist air enhanced the smell of the woods. It felt so good to walk, to stretch my legs.
Then I realized all the riders were fanning out into a horseshoe shape, surrounding me. They weren’t really looking at me, but scanning the area with their hands on their weapons.
I found a stout tree to hide behind. Their eyes were averted, I tried to remind myself. Fiona could have them executed for staring at her in such a private moment. (I didn’t really know this.)
Still, I hated doing bathroom things when I didn’t have privacy. I especially hated feeling like someone was waiting for me.
A fat raindrop splashed onto my shoulder. This was getting even better. “I am not going to back down,” I growled to myself. There was no way I was going another mile feeling like a water balloon about to explode.
Eventually I did relieve myself, but by this time, the drops of rain had turned to sheets. Dripping wet, tense with embarrassment, I lifted my skirts to my knees and slogged back into the carriage.
And we rode on.
The “short” road to the capital that Queen Arencaster had insisted on took three days. Three days of rainy weather. Three days of travel rations and using the bathroom in the woods while the guards, well, guarded. (I couldn’t fault them too much. They were just doing their duty: protecting the princess.) And most of all, three days of carriage butt.
On the third day, we came to the top of the hill we’d been ascending since the night before. Here several carriages and many travelers had stopped to take in the view.
Ceredwyn was still distant, the size of an architect’s scale model. Rays of sun had broken free from the still-gray skies above to shine upon rooftops and castle spires. Beyond the city lay the sea, navy blue facets occasionally glistening.
“Ceredwyn t
he Gray,” I heard Tolliver say in awe. I imagined him telling his adopted mother and brother of the beautiful sight as they sat before a fire in their simple house.
Inside the capital, I learned the name Ceredwyn the Gray came from its stones. They were everywhere, bolstering the walls, the cobbles on the streets, and forming the lowest floors of homes. Despite this, the city was never monotonous to look at. The stones’ shapes were far from uniform, and their shades introduced me to a whole new spectrum, a gray one.
I didn’t want to look like a country bumpkin, so I didn’t follow my first instinct to crane my head and shoulders out the carriage window and gawk. Sitting properly, even as near the window as possible, only let me see the lower levels of buildings, most of which rose several stories. I wondered if a time would come when I could see them from the front steps to the roof.
The moment we’d entered Ceredwyn, some of the guards had been lobbying to “to preserve travel rations” by stopping at an inn for breakfast. The lead, the eldest in the company, ribbed them for a while but finally gave in. I think smelling frying bacon and baking bread around every corner helped him decide. We chose a humble building of two stories. Despite the mild weather, Toliver whispered through the carriage window for me to put on my cloak. He stayed by my side from the moment I stepped onto the streets. While the guards ordered food, Toliver gestured for me to follow him to a table. I felt grateful for this. After the quiet of the woods, the inn seemed riotous.
I’d thought of Tolliver often during our journey. The long stretches of repetitive wilderness leant themselves to fantasizing on one hand and worrying on the other. And of course, the two blurred into fantasies of Tolliver protecting me from my many anxieties. Then I’d remember how Gerry had done so almost from the time we’d met and it was back to worrying again. Sitting next to Tolliver after all the time I’d had to think was enough to make my pulse speed up.
“How does My Lady today?” Tolliver whispered unexpectedly, almost making me jump.
“Oh, the capital is amazing! I just love the buildings.”
“Ceredwyn is very beautiful. What is it?” Tolliver said, probably in response to my mouth hanging open.
I had gotten so used to Gerry’s views on everything. Had I really started assuming everyone else thought the same way? “I’m surprised because Gerry wouldn’t like it. He’s a very modernist kind of guy. Clean lines, really boring. He keeps his room looking like a magazine is about to photograph it.”
As I attempted to explain, I wished I could swallow the words back. Not only was I bringing up Gerry, but I was telling Tolliver about a sort of problem I had with him. And, a bunch of the stuff had to do with the modern world which he knew nothing about. Most of all, I didn’t want to imply that I was other than happily in love with him. I mean, Gerry and I had our issues of course, but didn’t all couples?
“Yes, My Lady,” Tolliver said seriously. He didn’t seem remotely put off, despite how my foot was all but in my mouth. “It is dangerous to speak like this, but you looked like you had something to say to me,” Tolliver ventured.
I didn’t. I just couldn’t make myself shut up, which was the exact opposite of how things usually went.
“It’s nice to talk to someone again,” I finally said. That, at least, was the truth.
Then the other guards came back, and I had to pretend to be enchanted. I supposed it was just as well; I’d only get myself in more trouble if I kept opening my mouth. I felt relieved as our awkward conversation passed into the loud, often bawdy jokes and stories of the young riders. That they weren’t afraid to offend Fiona made for interesting reflection on her character. Maybe the real princess would have joined right in.
Seeing them eat was like watching a pack of young wolves gorge themselves. I wondered if the inn would have enough food; after six platters, the guards were still going strong. Were their stomachs bottomless pits or something? As in my world, their manners were less than magnificent. Tolliver, I’m sorry to say, also burped and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
Later, we continued down the main boulevard, pedestrian peasants and other carriages making the going slow. This leg of the journey lost its novelty quickly. It almost felt like lumbering through traffic back home.
Eventually the congestion cleared. The houses, market stalls, and alleys gave way to grounds and gardens, as though we were entering a large, important property.
A tower, taller than any structure I’d seen in the Other World, rose out of the center. At first I thought the angle of the sun had shadowed the side facing us, but as we neared, and the imposing structure seem to grow, I realized it was made of dark stone similar to marble. Although it appeared smooth from a distance, up close, it was incredibly ornate with columns, pillars, galleries, and walkways. I couldn’t imagine entering a place that looked so important. How would I ever learn magic? My feat with the mirror at dinner must’ve been a fluke!
Meanwhile, the riders’ bellowed laughter and grins gave way to quiet and introspection. Suddenly the horses’ hooves seemed way too loud.
The entryway consisted of a wide staircase of the same glossy, lustrous black stone. Ornate columns framed openings into deeper darkness and mystery. My heart beat faster, and I wiped my sweaty hands on my blue skirts.
“The Tower! The Tower!” I kept hearing the riders say as they passed my window.
At the center of the main stairs, a man waited. As we neared, he descended to meet us with dream-like, floating slowness. Gray clouds, his robes billowed around him; his wispy white hair rose and fell. I had the odd feeling the wind originated from the tower itself, a kind of aura of power. It was a strange thought, unlike me. But then again, this was a weird place.
The carriage came to a stop alongside the stair bottom. The man in gray stopped, showed no expression, made no move to remove his hands from his voluminous sleeves. From the distance in his eyes, he could have been gazing miles away. Another strange thought came to me then: suppose he could go no farther, and it was for us to join him on the dark stair?
I was about to find out.
The carriage driver opened the door and stood behind it with an air of expectation. As I stepped out, my hands started shaking. Before the tower, I froze, overcome with fear stronger than any I’d ever known. I looked to Tolliver and the guards for help. Their faces had gone pale. Statue-like, they stood at rigid attention.
They couldn’t help me, I realized. I had to go forward alone.
Three dizzy steps brought my feet to the first dark stair.
“Welcome, Princess of Autumnstead. I am Elijah Maestos, headmaster of Valeriya Tower, school of magic. I have awaited you several days.” He spoke as though presiding over a ceremony with lines that had not changed in hundreds of years.
I nodded, wordlessly, not sure what he knew.
Tolliver came to my side. Inwardly, I heaved a sigh of relief.
“Please come with me.” The old man beckoned to us with a spectral, bony finger.
We did not enter the tower proper. Instead, Elijah went up the stairs and led us around the outside, then across a walkway. Where were we going? I wondered. Occasionally I glimpsed the reflection of my scared, uncertain face in the onyx mirrors of floor and wall. We stopped at a structure shaped like a house.
“Here.” Elijah gestured as though he pushed aside a delicate curtain. The marble slab that served as the door drew back without his so much as touching it.
Tolliver followed first. I entered just as the gloom within gave way to light that danced in the piles of gold forming mountains and valleys throughout the room.
Tolliver, Elijah, and I picked our way along the narrow passage at the center, coming at last to a long table heaped with scales and ledgers. The old man eased himself into the only chair, practically a throne, padded with crimson velvet, and leaned his chin on his hands.
An awkward minute of waiting passed before Tolliver said, “Queen Arencaster sends a gift.”
I blinked as he pushed a wooden c
hest the size of a small toolbox toward the old man. So this was the reason the queen had sent so many guards. I had thought six a lot for one traveler.
The headmaster opened the lid but barely glanced inside. “I accept Queen Arencaster’s gift,” he said in his ceremonial voice. Then he addressed me directly. “The queen had her reasons for keeping your presence here secret. A condition of her gift is that we neither question nor speculate.” Behind us, the door boomed shut.
I thought back to the surprising plainness of my carriage and Fiona’s travel dress. Once again, Queen Arencaster had thought several moves ahead.
“It is a pity that superstition holds such sway in the Autumn Lands that one who studies the arcane is not trusted, even reviled. But no matter,” Elijah said. “We will teach you to harness your powers. However, to do so, you must leave the name ‘Fiona Arencaster’ behind you. What name shall you take? “
“She is enchanted,” Toll started to say, but the old man held up his bony hand.
“That is how she appears to be,” the headmaster said. “I am certain she has her reasons. But there is no need for that. Mysteries and enigmas are welcome here.” His eyes were suddenly very present…and very piercing. Maybe, no, more than likely, he knew who I really was and where I’d come from.
“Leah,” I whispered. “Call me Leah.”
Tolliver looked at me with longing, as though there were something he wanted to say.
But silence remained between us through the return walk past mounds of gold and the dizzying Tower heights. As Tolliver mounted his horse, I wished I could hug him the way I clung to Gerry whenever he was leaving for somewhere. From horseback, the guards bowed to me. I raised one hand in farewell, the way I supposed a princess in a serious movie would. In a clatter of wheels and hooves, they turned back to Ceredwyn. I watched Tolliver and the carriage until well after they were a speck on the horizon. At last, reluctantly, I turned back to the tower, hoping Elijah didn’t think me too rude. But the headmaster was gone. A gnarled, twisted little man stood at my elbow. His already-wide eyes protruded out of his face, froglike.
Rescuing the Prince Page 7