“Yes,” said Onepiece, very precisely. “I am sausage. Most cer-tain-ly I am sausage. With beans.”
“All right, you’re a sausage,” Annabel said good-naturedly. Onepiece had been working hard at being a boy instead of a dog. When Annabel had first met him, he communicated in short bursts of three or four words, and made up the difference in a kind of mental communication that made her head buzz. Nowadays he was more inclined to speak in full sentences, even if those sentences weren’t always quite right.
“Luck is sausage and should eat,” said Onepiece, and stuffed a sausage in the general direction of Luck’s ear.
“It’s a conspiracy,” said Luck, removing the sausage from his ear with the wearied look of one who has had the need, habitually, to remove sausages from his ears. “That’s all right. You eat it.”
“Don’t want it,” Onepiece complained. “Was in Luck’s ear. Yuck.”
Luck looked at him bemusedly. “Huh. That’s what I thought. I don’t want marmalade in my ear, either.”
Onepiece, looking disappointed, put the spoon back in the marmalade. “I want magic,” he said.
“I want magic, please,” Poly reminded him.
“Luck doesn’t please,” complained Onepiece. “Why am I pleasing if Luck is not pleasing?”
“Please pass the tea,” Luck said to Annabel, smiling amiably at her.
Annabel did so, but she would have snorted if Onepiece hadn’t been there. It was the first time she’d heard Luck say please, and if Onepiece’s open mouth was anything to go by, he hadn’t ever heard Luck say it either. Still, it was enough to make him say “Perlease the magic,” at which Luck gave him something Annabel couldn’t see.
“Why does he want Luck’s magic when he’s got his own?” she asked. Magic was another one of those things that, like being the queen heir, made her feel entirely separate from the rest of New Civet in general. It was no good people even trying to explain it to her, because she couldn’t see it, couldn’t experience it, couldn’t understand it.
“Luck’s magic is prettiest,” Onepiece said happily, and sat back in Annabel’s lap to make more magic that she couldn’t see.
As usually happened when Annabel ate breakfast with Luck and Onepiece, she found herself occasionally annoyed, but never bored; and she was surprised to find that it was time for her to leave before she was ready to get up from the table.
When she heard the crunch of gravel that meant the carriage was pulling around to the front steps, she sighed. “I suppose you’re not going to see Melchior this time.”
“I didn’t come to see Melchior,” Poly said.
“Just as well,” said Annabel, who was still sulking just a little bit, though she couldn’t help smiling, too. “Since he’s not here.”
“Do you have to leave now?”
“Yes,” Annabel said glumly. “The carriage is packed and ready now. What about you? Melchior won’t mind if you stay for a while until Luck’s better.”
Poly hesitated. “Well, we might. The carriage is coming, but it’ll take a little while yet and I don’t think Luck is ready for another Shift right now.”
“Anyway, Melchior will probably reappear the moment I leave.”
“When you get back on holidays, I think we’ll have a talk,” Poly said thoughtfully. “What a shame I wasn’t able to come with Luck last time!”
“Talk about what?”
“There’s been too much talking already,” Luck opined, and stood up. “I’m going to look for Melchior.”
Annabel rather expected him to disappear again, but his stomach must still have been uneasy, because he simply wandered through the door and into the main hall, his hands in his pockets and a faintly hopeful look to his face.
“I think I’ll have to have a talk with Luck as well,” said Poly, looking even more thoughtful. “He and Melchior have been getting on much better than usual lately, and I’m not sure I approve.”
“Why?”
There was a brief pause before Poly said, “Well, I don’t know. If it’s for the reason I think, I could be swayed; but if it’s for Black Velvet business I’m not so sure.”
“Yes!” Annabel said, with heartfelt agreement. “Because they won’t share!”
Annabel was heartily sick of her carriage by the time she stopped for lunch. If she’d had Peter to squabble with or Melchior to talk to, it might not have been so bad, but by herself there was no escaping the fact that she was only about a fifth of the way to Trenthams. Melchior wasn’t a good enough magic user to have a specialised travel spell on hand, and Annabel had learned, much to her surprise, that the laws of New Civet prohibited any potential heirs to the throne from traveling via magic.
“Makes you wonder what happened to one of them,” she muttered to herself, when the door shut behind the servant who showed her to her own private parlour. Thankfully, Melchior seemed to have taken care of her meals along the road, even if he hadn’t bothered to see her off himself.
Annabel reached up to take off her hat in front of the mirror. As she did so, she turned just enough to catch sight of something blue and elegant reflected from behind her. There was a girl there, leaning comfortably into the wall as if she’d been there all along—and she might have been, for all Annabel knew.
Who was that? Annabel wondered in annoyance. This was meant to be a private parlour. Now she would have to be polite to someone who had probably sneaked in for a quick look at the future queen. She didn’t like having to be polite; despite what Melchior said, Annabel found that she preferred to be able to be decently rude than politely rude with sharp edges and insincere smiles.
“So you’re it, are you?” said the mirrored vision in blue, catching her eye. “The queen heir, I mean. How—well, I can’t say ‘how fortuitous’, considering I was waiting for you. What shall I say? Ah yes! What I meant to say is how expedient!”
Annabel let her face slip into the familiar, heavy lines of stupidity, and turned to face the girl.
The other girl said, “That’s really very impressive! Do you do that often? It must be terribly useful!”
“Oh,” said Annabel, taking in red hair and the intelligent sparkle of those grey eyes. “You must be Isabella.”
Isabella grinned at her. “I suppose you’ve already heard about me. We were supposed to meet a long time ago.”
“Yes,” Annabel said. “Nearly three years ago, actually.”
She hadn’t meant to feel slighted, but somehow she did feel slighted. Annabel had heard so much about Isabella from Poly and Melchior that there had burned in her a deep desire to meet the other girl. It had seemed natural that the feeling would be mutual, and Isabella had been expected every few months for the first year—until it finally occurred to Annabel that she was not to meet Isabella. Or perhaps that Isabella was determined not to meet Annabel.
“Ah,” said Isabella, and she sounded pensive. “That was very rude of me, I’m afraid. The thing is that there have been problems along the border of New Civet and Broma—my little Papa was all alone and he’s not really very good at the organisation side of being an ambassador. I’ve not even been able to spend a whole year together at Trenthams; I’ve been arranging parties and soothing hurt feelings for the last two years.”
“Isn’t the Bromian and New Civetan border the Great Escarpment?”
“Bromians,” said Isabella earnestly, “are very good at climbing ice cliffs. I think it’s all the skating and ice-fishing they do.”
Annabel, who still wasn’t sure if she should be offended or forgiving, asked, “What are the parties like?”
“Ugh.” Isabella shuddered. “So beautiful, and so cold! You have no idea! But really, I was pining to see you; Poly’s told me such an awful lot about you, you see.”
That was unlikely to be strictly true, Annabel considered; there was so little really interesting about her if you didn’t consider the fact that she was to be the next queen of New Civet. But that fact was usually quite enough for people to find he
r very interesting. Annabel’s heart hardened just a little bit more.
“When exactly did Poly—?”
“Oh, Poly has a way of being able to talk to you even if she isn’t exactly there,” said Isabella. “Don’t ask me how; I have no idea how things like that work. I have the tiniest bit of magic, and all that’s good for is unlocking things and making a nuisance of myself.”
“Is that why—”
“Exactly,” nodded Isabella. “I’ve never met anyone with as little magic as me—you’re the first. Besides, I thought we might be able to Treat.”
“Really?” Annabel looked at her expressionlessly. “I thought you were going to say that we should be friends.”
Isabella looked knowing. “Ah. You’ve had a few of those, have you?”
“Nobody is supposed to know about it—” began Annabel, before she could stop herself.
“But somehow someone always does,” agreed Isabella. “Yes. You’d best be prepared for a lot of that at Trenthams too. I can think of at least three or four girls whose families will have ’specially prepared them. They’ll be very friendly and very useful, and very, very careful about what they say to you.”
“What about you?”
“Well, I’ll at least be honest about it,” Isabella said cheerfully. “I do want something from you. I want something very much, as a matter of fact. I’m proposing that we form an Accord where each of us will agree to terms and provide certain benefits.”
“What about your father? Doesn’t he need you any more?”
“Oh, Papa has been recalled,” said Isabella. “Actually, everyone has. That’s why so many people are starting to realise what is happening.”
“Oh.” Annabel grimaced, and caught the sympathetic look that passed across Isabella’s mobile face. “That’s annoying.”
“Yes, I’m afraid it’s going to be very tiresome for you,” said the other girl. “That’s perhaps where I can help a little. I’m very good at mitigating things.”
“All right,” Annabel said, interested and even amused. If she hadn’t been so suspicious, she probably would have been more amused; Poly had said she would like Isabella. “What terms, and what benefits?”
“How lovely!” said Isabella. “You’re decisive and to the point. They’ll praise you for that. I’m decisive and to the point too, but since I’m not going to be queen I’m only said to be stubborn.”
“Melchior says I need to learn how to say things in a more delicate manner.”
Isabella’s head tilted. “I’m always inclined to think that Melchior is in the right, but in this case I should think he’s only about half right.”
“Which half?”
“I think it’s important for you to learn how to dance rings when you’re talking. I think it’s more important to know when not to dance verbal rings—and just as important to know when someone else is talking you in a circle.”
“Oh,” said Annabel. “Like now, you mean?”
The other girl gave a delighted chuckle. “Exactly so! I think it’s important to know a lot of things that aren’t necessary to use at every opportunity. The point is to be able to use them when you need to use them. People do so love to harp on ignorance in New Civet; such a high brow lot! If you know when to use your skills, people get the idea that you’re not ignorant even when you don’t use those particular skills. You begin to have a reputation as an honest and a strong ruler.”
“I’d rather not be any sort of ruler,” Annabel said. She hadn’t said that to anyone outside her small circle, and for a moment she was very startled to find she’d said it to Isabella.
“Oh, me too!” said Isabella. “Good heavens, being stuck inside all the time, and surrounded by courtiers? No thank you! Mind you, I think you’ll be very good at it. You know, as much as anyone is exactly good at being a ruler. And luckily for you, you’ve got a face that’s pretty hard to read, so if you keep practising that blank look of yours and speak more bluntly than prettily, I think you’ll grow a very nice reputation as a solid, fair queen.”
“I don’t want to just gain a reputation for—”
“Of course you don’t,” said Isabella. “That’s one of the things that makes me think you’ll be a good queen. And—if you’ll pardon me cleverly turning the conversation back to the important point—one of the reasons I’ll be so invaluable to you. Me and my little Papa, of course.”
“What are your terms, exactly?”
“They are very simple,” Isabella said. “I want a position in your cabinet.”
“You want to serve—”
“Not me; my little Papa. I want to make sure you’ll keep him on as New Civet’s Ambassador when you form your own cabinet. And I’d like to be made a viscountess in my own right—my mother was Lady Farrah and I’ve a mind to be Lady Farrah, too.”
“What else?”
“That’s all,” Isabella said. “It’s not a bad exchange, you know; my little Papa is a very good ambassador. He’s been doing the job since before it was a paid position, back when it was still dangerous to poke your nose over the Lacunan border.”
“I thought it was still dangerous to poke your nose over the Lacunan border,” remarked Annabel.
“Perhaps it is,” said Isabella. “But at least now the Emperor publicly frowns upon plots to attack ambassadorial staff.”
“That must be a big help.”
“Oh well, it’s leverage of a kind,” Isabella said cheerfully. “If you know how to use it.”
“Don’t you have any brothers or sisters?” Annabel, whose scant experience with persons approaching to treat with her was one of carefully hidden requests and outright demands for favour, both personal and familiar.
“Kit knows how to look after himself and Susan is too young to need more than a horse and something to do out of doors. No, my little Papa is the one who needs attention right now. He’ll be very happy to stay in the same position—he hasn’t said anything, but his bald patch has grown over the last few months.”
“What about you?”
“In return for that,” Isabella said, blithely taking her own meaning from Annabel’s question, “I engage to guide you through your year at Trenthams, entire. We’ll room together, eat together, and walk around arm in arm together. I’ll tell you who is who, what families are inclined to fall under each particular political persuasion, and how to engage with any and all comers.”
“Weren’t you supposed to do that, anyway?” asked Annabel, who had more than a shrewd idea of exactly why Melchior had been so keen for herself and Isabella to meet.
“Yes, and I would have been paid very well for it,” Isabella said, wrinkling her nose. “I dislike being paid to have fun.”
“But—”
“On the other hand, I adore making bargains. Now, in addition to your instruction in everything social, I’ll also engage to help with your dressing—”
“Wait,” said Annabel, sensing a familiar and unwelcome theme. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?”
“Good heavens!” Isabella said. “It’s worse than I thought. You should have asked me what isn’t wrong with it.”
Annabel blinked, stared; grinned.
“Oh, good!” said Isabella frankly. “I thought I’d gone a bit too far!”
Amused in a way that she wouldn’t have been if it had been Melchior or Peter saying the same thing, Annabel suggested, “Don’t you think you should be more polite when you want something?”
“Nonsense. I’m delightfully direct. And while I’m being direct, I’m afraid that the current style for bustles is decidedly not the best style for you. We’ll change that.”
“How can I change?” demanded Annabel, with a resurgence of the irritation she had felt when she first saw Isabella. She had lost a lot of weight in the passing of three years, but she had the feeling that her current size was as small as anything was going to get. If it came to that, it was as small as she wanted to get. She was healthy and comfortable, and had no inte
ntion of being as skinny and elegant as Isabella.
“Goodness, no!” Isabella said. “We’re not going to change you. We’re going to change the fashion.”
For the first time, Annabel stared at the other girl with unqualified respect. “You can do that?”
“Certainly I can! Aren’t you glad you’ve got me?”
“Yes,” said Annabel, with absolute truthfulness. “Wait—but aren’t you older than me?”
“That depends,” Isabella said. “For another year, yes. When I turn twenty there will no admission of age at all. Why?”
“Won’t the other girls think it odd—us rooming together, I mean? Aren’t there dormitories?”
“Not for you,” Isabella said decidedly. “The others, yes. And I’m certain that Melchior has already arranged for us to room together. We won’t need to say anything.”
“Are you on your way to Trenthams, too?”
“Of course!” Isabella nodded. “Now, if you look at it in one way, it was awfully rude of me to sneak into your private parlour to make sure I had the first word with you. If you look at it in another, it was a very clever ruse to get myself invited along in your carriage.”
Annabel wasn’t certain whether to be irritated at Isabella’s scheme or amused that the other girl had admitted it so readily. In genuine curiosity, she asked, “What if I don’t invite you along?”
“Then I hint, very delicately.”
“What if I’m not very good at taking hints?”
“I hint more broadly.”
“Actually,” said Annabel, her face flat and expressionless again, “I’m very good at ignoring broad hints, too.”
Isabella chuckled suddenly. “That’s going to be very useful for you,” she said.
“I thought so.” Annabel considered for a brief moment and came to a conclusion that surprised herself. She said, “You might as well come along with me.”
“How lovely! I’ve already sent my carriage ahead, you see. There was no room for me in it; it’s packed to the roof with clothes. Now that I think of it, the roof is piled high, too.”
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