The Word Changers

by Ashlee Willis

  “The Audience Chamber,” Posy answered quietly. She had forgotten about the mist. “Could you lead me there?”

  Why, yes ... I suppose ... it is so late, though. Very unusual. But just as you say, Princess. You will need your candle, though. I am faultless at giving directions. There’s no mistake about that, of course, but I cannot take the blame if you walk directly into a wall or tumble down a staircase, all because of thoughtlessness.

  “Oh, yes.” Posy knelt to light her candle in the glowing embers of the fireplace and then placed it on its stand.

  Very good, the mist said, but Posy thought it still sounded rather disapproving. Now here we go.

  A few minutes later Posy hesitated outside of two high, magnificent doors. They were solid gold and inlaid with every type of rare gem. On one door the gems spelled out the letter M; on the other, V. “Melanthius and Valanor,” whispered Posy softly, touching her finger lightly to one of the diamonds that winked in the glow of her candle.

  You know, the mist said thoughtfully, you may not want to enter through that way. Those doors are very ceremonial, not to mention very heavy. Perhaps the side door? Over this way, dearie, to your right. There you are.

  Posy spotted another door, wooden and plain, almost hidden in the slope of the wall. Usually for servants, the mist explained in her ear, but much more practical, I think.

  “Yes, thank you,” Posy nodded, stepping up to the door. Practical, she thought, and cautious. After all, the note had said no one must see her, hadn’t it? She began to feel nervous, and she thought wildly for a moment that she had made a terrible mistake. What if this was her part in the Plot? What if she was to be led to this very room and murdered in some cruel way? And here she was, walking right into it. Her hand hovered over the door handle as she thought about simply running back to her room and staying there, but then she heard voices. They came from within the chamber, so low they were almost inaudible. A dull warm light glowed from underneath the door—she hadn’t noticed that before.

  She hesitated, not knowing what to do. Was one of these voices that of the one who had summoned her? Or was it coincidence that someone else was meeting here at this time of the night?

  Posy turned the knob of the door as slowly as possible, then eased it open, thankful that its hinges didn’t groan. Silently, she padded into the room, pressing her body against the wall where the deepest shadows fell. Across the wide expanse of the marble floor was a high sort of platform, with wide stone steps leading up to it. On top of it sat two magnificent thrones of shining gold. Two rows of miniature golden trees—statues, Posy decided—ran the length of the wide aisle that led to the thrones. On the curving branches of two of these trees sat Falak and another owl, smaller than Falak, with red-brown feathers. King Melanthius paced in front of them before his throne.

  Heart racing, Posy crept closer, padding silently in her slippers. She dropped quietly to her knees and began crawling, rather gracelessly, toward the speakers, hiding within the deep shadows of the stone columns along the border of the chamber. When she was as close as she dared, she stopped and sat on the harsh, cold floor, pulling her knees to her chest and clamping down her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering with fear and cold.

  “We cannot know when a reader will come. Even the Author doesn’t know that,” Falak was saying.

  Melanthius shot him an angry look and growled, “Do not mention the Author to me. He has abandoned us—that’s if he ever existed to begin with. I am the ruler of the Kingdom now. I am the keeper and protector of the Plot.”

  “As you say, Sire,” Falak conceded smoothly, his round orange eyes fathomless in the candlelight.

  “What say you, Egbert?” Melanthius gestured toward the other owl.

  “Majesty, I must say I agree with Falak in part,” Egbert answered solemnly. “A reader may come this minute, or perhaps in a year, but it will make little difference to the Borders and the lands beyond them. The creatures there are wild; they are not a part of the Plot, yet they rise up against you. If they threaten us, and invade the kingdom, and a reader comes ...”

  “Then all will be lost,” Melanthius finished, his eyes glinting.

  “Yes,” agreed Falak, nodding his head emphatically, “How could the Plot carry on if the Wild Folk overran the Kingdom? Even now, without outright war, they threaten it by trying to cross the Borders, by challenging our way of life. What if one of them was to get into the Kingdom while a reader read our story? What then? The Plot would be destroyed!”

  Melanthius turned red. He slammed a large fist down on the arm of his throne. “It will never happen!” he shouted, oblivious to the look that shot between the two owls. “We must declare war,” he said, “but it must be outside of the Kingdom, far beyond the Borders of the Plot. Readers must not be disturbed when they come. Characters must be allowed to carry out their parts in peace.”

  “Yes, yes,” Falak said with a hint of impatience, “but how will you account for the absence of your armies if they are far away fighting in a war that has little to do with the Plot?”

  Melanthius gazed at Falak several long moments before he said softly, “Why, you will think of something, Falak. You always do. You will tell the characters whatever story will keep them pacified for the time being, and if a reader comes, we will all act as if this was how the Author intended the Plot to be. As long as my people believe I am the one who controls the shape of the Plot.” His voice lowered to an ominous whisper. “As long as they believe the Author has forsaken the Kingdom, my place on the throne—and yours as my advisers—is secured forever.”

  Listening to the king’s voice, Posy knew that this was something Melanthius had done before—perhaps often. Deceiving the characters, deceiving the readers. Prince Kyran was right to despise him. Posy rubbed her hands up and down her arms trying to stop herself from shivering. Something more than the chill of the castle was wrapping cold fingers around her heart. She was horrified at the reality of whom the king was, and what he was doing. And she was confused at Falak’s part in all of it. She had thought she could rely on him, but it seemed she was mistaken; he was the same as King Melanthius.

  Her ears perked as she heard Falak say, “And what about the princess Evanthe, Majesty?”

  “What about her?” grunted Melanthius. He stopped pacing, and Posy heard the exhaustion in his voice. His broad shoulders slumped, and he dropped into his throne. “As far as I am concerned, she never left at all. The girl who is here can take her place and be done with it.”

  Egbert ruffled his feathers a bit and cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, pardon me for suggesting this, but ... what if the girl goes through with the sacrifice and, when a reader comes again, decides she doesn’t want to go through with her part again? What is to keep her from running away like Princess Evanthe? Can we expect to keep her here indefinitely?”

  Posy felt her body go rigid.

  Melanthius straightened and replied, without looking at either owl, “And why would she not want to go through with it again? Especially when she knows that in a book you cannot truly die? She might be sacrificed a hundred or a thousand times, but she will always be here again at the beginning of the Plot! Besides—” The king turned slowly in his chair and directed a thunderous gaze at Egbert. “—you know very well that is not why my daughter left the Kingdom. A traitor she might be, but a coward—never.”

  “No, I—” began a flustered Egbert, but Falak cut him off sharply.

  “We know she had reasons of her own that made her betray the Kingdom and yourself, Majesty. And we know”—he shot a significant look at Egbert—“that we must never speak of them, now she is gone.”

  “Yes, yes,” murmured the king, a shadow crossing his face for a moment. But then he stretched his arms above his head with a great yawn. “Thank you for meeting with me,” Melanthius nodded to Falak and Egbert. “I wanted a chance to speak with you before I addressed the rest of my advisers. I think tomorrow we will have a council of war. We cannot let the B
orders be threatened. Perhaps all we need do is offer threat in return, and that will be an end to it. Perhaps there will be no need for full-blown war at all,” Melanthius finished hopefully.

  “Perhaps, Your Majesty, perhaps,” sighed Falak without much conviction, spreading his wings and gliding from his perch. “We bid you good night, then, Sire.”

  “Yes, good night, you two.” Melanthius stifled another yawn before grabbing his candle and disappearing into the darkness at the far end of the chamber. Posy heard a door open and close. From her place in the shadows she sat motionlessly, trying to still her breathing.

  “You may come out now, Princess,” Falak said calmly just when Posy thought he and Egbert had surely gone. “You forget there is not much in a darkened room that an owl does not see or hear,” Falak said. Posy got to her feet with an effort, feeling cold all the way to her bones. Dread making her speechless as she stood and regarded the two owls with eyes nearly as large as theirs.

  “Do you understand what you heard?” Falak questioned matter-of-factly. Posy began to shake her head slowly, as if in a dream.

  “No, no, I don’t!” she heard herself burst out. “At least, I understand you are no friend of mine at all, and King Melanthius is not far off from being ... well, evil!”

  “My, you are beginning to sound like your predecessor, Princess,” observed Falak levelly. “But, like her, you are mistaken in at least one thing. You may call me a friend, for I have your interests in mind. Now—as for King Melanthius—though some might not call him evil, he is indeed not well liked in the kingdom, and swiftly becoming even less so.” Falak and Egbert exchanged smug glances, and Posy lowered her eyebrows.

  “But why would you wish for the king to be disliked?” Posy asked suspiciously. “You are his Chief Adviser. If he goes down, you go with him ... right? And what about the Plot that everyone seems to find so important? And ... and what about me?”

  “Your part—” Falak said, and his voice held a note of calculation. “—as you now know, ends in death.” Posy choked down the cry that tried to escape from her. Falak continued, eyeing her face, “I told you this was a dark tale, Princess. And you are not the only one whose part is to die; there are many, though lesser, characters. But the Plot decrees that the only way to stop the death of many is for the death of one who is of great importance—you. That is why you are sacrificed. But if I have anything to do with it, this will never happen.”

  “Wh—what?” Posy stammered. “You would stop the Plot? Can you stop it from happening? Wasn't it already written by an author somewhere?”

  “I will certainly try to stop it,” he nodded, adeptly veering around her second question. “But you must wait for my signal. I will send Egbert or one of my other trusted owls to your room in the next night or two. And you will escape this place.”

  “Escape!” Even in her distress Posy knew how unlikely this was. “With the princess already having run away, they won’t let me five feet away from the castle grounds! Especially after all the trouble it took to get me here! Falak, you of all people—er, owls—should know that.”

  “Yes, and that is why you could never do it on your own. That is why I am helping you,” he sighed with exaggerated patience and hunched up his gray-feathered shoulders. “You will simply have to trust me, Princess. Now, there is nothing more to say. Back to your room quickly before you die of a chill and save the king the trouble of doing it himself.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Escape

  Posy woke the next morning resolved. Whether something in her dreams had made up her mind, or the slow panic that had been welling up in her had finally driven her to the edge—she knew what she must do.

  Knowing the king had a late night, Posy rose early, hoping to be up long before him. She called Olena to help her dress, then summoned the mist.

  “Take me to the Audience Chamber, please,” she asked.

  Again? Oh, dear, well, I suppose ... There is nothing of much interest there, though, I can tell you.

  “Oh, uh ....” Posy glanced around. “Could you please not mention to anyone that I went there last night?”

  Secrets?! Hmm. This castle is full of those, my dear, the mist answered wistfully. Why, even I have a secret or two of my own, you know. I will keep yours for you, never fear. Now come along.

  As Posy once more trod the twisting corridors, her mind hummed. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Falak, she told herself; it was just that it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else on her side, too. A woman. A mother. Someone who would understand and have sympathy. In short—Queen Valanor.

  This time Posy motioned to the guards who stood outside of the formal golden doors and entered through them with her chin held high. She saw with relief that the king was nowhere in sight, but the queen sat upon her throne at the far end of the chamber and was already at work listening to a straggling line of petitioners. When they saw Posy enter, though, they parted for her, and she walked the length of the room to stand before Queen Valanor.

  “Daughter, how nice to see you,” said Queen Valanor benignly. “Do you wish to sit with me as I see the petitioners today, dear?”

  “No,” Posy said with force—maybe too much force, for the room became eerily quiet and the queen’s face froze. “I wanted to speak to you myself. Actually, I have a sort of petition for you, I guess you could say.”

  “I see,” the queen said stiffly. “Well, then.” She lifted one elegant white hand and waved it, sending everyone in the room shuffling dejectedly toward the door. When the room emptied, Valanor eyed Posy with her cat-green eyes. Her light lashes sent shadows down her cheeks as she squinted in calculation. “Will this be a petition I may grant you, daughter? For I hope it will not be a waste of both our time.”

  “I don’t think it will be,” Posy explained hastily. “A waste, that is. But I do hope you can help me. I wanted to speak to you without the king here.”

  “Your father,” the queen corrected smoothly. “Why would you want to keep something from your own father?” If there was a warning in her voice, Posy chose to ignore it.

  “He’s not my father,” she said boldly. “You know it, and he knows it—probably everyone knows it. I know why I am here. I know the real princess has run away from a horrible fate, and I don’t blame her. But you are her mother—her mother. Don’t you care about how she feels? Don’t you care about the reason she left the kingdom?”

  The queen stood from her throne and towered above Posy. “How do you know all these things? Who has been speaking to you?”

  “I cannot say, Your Majesty.”

  “You will not.” The queen’s pale cheeks were tinged with two bright spots of pink. “Do you know the reason she left the kingdom, girl?”

  No daughter or dear now, Posy noted grimly.

  “Yes, I do. She left because she was being sacrificed, over and over again, every time a reader came. How could you let that happen to her?” Posy’s face darkened with anger. “Don't you love her?”

  “This is none of your concern, I am afraid,” the queen said in a deadly soft voice. “The princess had a role, she was a character like the rest of us, and had to follow the Plot. We would be nowhere without the Plot; Evanthe knew that. She had willingly fulfilled her role many times before she ran away. No, that was not the reason she abandoned us. You have not been here long enough to understand,” she sneered. “How dare you, a stranger, come into our world and tell me, the queen, what to do.”

  “And how dare you take me from my own world and use me against my will for your own horrible Plot!” returned Posy quickly, her voice rising to a shout. “I thought I could trust you—a woman. I thought maybe you would feel more deeply than the king, that you would have mercy on me, knowing your own daughter is in danger. But I can see I was wrong,” she finished coldly and bowed her head in defeat.

  “Oh, yes, you were wrong,” Queen Valanor said, her voice slinking across the marble floor toward Posy like a writhing snake. “You were very wrong to co
me to me like this. For now, we know not to underestimate you. The king will be very interested to know how you feel.” She snapped her fingers sharply, and two guards appeared from the sides of the room. “Accompany the princess back to her room and see that she stays there.” She looked down at Posy, and her smile was sickly sweet. “I am afraid our princess is feeling a bit put out today, and she will need to be confined to her room until I give you further notice.”

  * * *

  So that was that, then. Posy was a prisoner. She walked across her room and peered, glaze-eyed, into the great mirror. She wanted to shout at her reflection, shake herself by the shoulders and say, “What have you done?” She had ruined everything. Why had she been so trusting? Why had she taken such a chance? Simply because the queen was a mother and a woman? She was also the wife of the king, and his co-conspirator. Posy knew that now—too late. Falak would not be able to help her escape, and she could very well be dead in a few days’ time. Dead.

  Posy flung herself onto the wide bed and began to cry, feeling very much like a child. She had barely slept the night before, and she was tired, so tired. She was tired of trying to work things out, tired of guessing what she was to do, tired of being here in this strange and horrifying place with false people everywhere she looked. She threw her arms around a pillow and hugged it, letting it soak up all her tears until at last she sank into oblivion.

  * * *

  “Falak is rather upset with you, my lady,” a voice said close to Posy’s ear. She awoke with a start and sat up in a room darkened with the long shadows of evening. A fire roared in the hearth, so Olena must have been here recently, but had not woken her. She had slept all day! Posy peered around the room. Near to where she had been lying, perched upon her bed, sat a smallish snowy-white owl, with gray-tipped wings, peering at her with midnight eyes.