It was as Gretel was mulling over all the obstacles between her and success that a detachment of the King’s Guard appeared at the top of the path, galloping out to meet them. Either they had been sent as an escort by Ferdinand, or …
“In the name of King Julian, halt!” screamed the sergeant at arms.
Gretel sighed. This was not her first encounter with the shouty, bumptious officer. He was not, she recalled, an easy man to deal with.
“Good morning to you, sergeant,” she called to him, raising her voice to make herself heard above the hoofbeats of the prancing horses as they circled around them, the jangling of the bits and bridles, and the clanging of the somewhat excessive amounts of weaponry the soldiers were equipped with.
“Who approaches the castle of King Julian the Mighty unannounced and without invitation?!” the sergeant demanded. Loudly.
“You are correct in as much as we do lack an official invitation. However, our arrival is not unannounced, as I have written to Uber General Ferdinand von Ferdinand to inform him of our visit. My name is Fraulein Gretel—Detective Gretel—of Gesternstadt, and I am expected.”
This gave the officer pause. He could never be seen to contradict his commanding officer. However, he had evidently not been apprised of the fact that these visitors were expected. To admit this fact might make him seem less than vital in the Uber General’s life. But should he be so easily convinced by the word of a civilian? Particularly one with whom his previous dealings had been difficult? To be made a fool of by someone so apparently unimportant and downright shabby would be to make himself the laughingstock of the regiment. Then again, if he did not treat a guest of the Uber General’s with the proper respect, all prospect of advancement in his career would vanish.
“You will all come with us!” he bellowed. He gestured at his men, who formed a ring of iron and rattling steel around the hapless trio. In this way they proceeded toward the castle, the horses fidgeting against the painfully slow pace at which they were forced to travel.
Gretel was relieved that she’d been able to win the albeit reluctant cooperation of the sergeant. However, her relief was short lived, as when they reached the castle they were not taken to a grand reception room, nor even to Ferdinand’s quarters. Instead they were bundled through a lowly rear entrance, marched down a series of corridors and stone stairs, and ultimately shown into a bare room. Indeed, it was made entirely of bareness. The stones of the walls were exposed and unadorned; the flagstones upon the floor were bare of rug, carpet, or even straw; the bars that latticed the small window were bare, being free of drapes or shutters; the wooden bench held not a single cushion to relieve its own bareness. When their escort left the room, slamming the heavy, featureless door, and the sound of the key turning in the lock echoed around their drab room, Gretel could barely contain her fury.
“For heaven’s sake!” she hissed beneath her breath.
“Never mind,” Ernst sought to pour oil on troubled waters, “we have reached our destination, have we not? I’m sure we will be more cordially received once it is understood why we are here, Fraulein Gretel. In the meantime, we can take our ease.”
Hans let loose a Ha! before dramatically pressing his arms against his sides as if squeezing into a tight space. “Alas, I cannot take my ease, so overwhelmed am I by all the comfortable chairs, hot water, excellent wine, and fine food!” He added another bark of mirthless laughter before pointedly turning his back on his sister, choosing to stare at the wall rather than look at her.
Gretel was forced to rein in her own ire. Hans was rarely pushed to the limits of his temper, but when he was a concrete stubbornness set in. Gretel recognized the signs. It would take a deal of gentle cajoling to bring him out of this state, and if there was any hope of their situation improving she needed him to at least do nothing to make things worse.
“Come, come, let us not fall into despair. The sergeant is merely being thorough. It is his job to protect the castle and the royal family …”
“Oh, well,” Hans retorted without troubling himself to turn around, “it is entirely reasonable then that he should throw three unarmed, travel-weary local people into a cell, as we do present such a threat!”
Gretel told him as patiently as she could that this was not, in fact, a cell, and that she was only too well acquainted with the accommodation true villains and ne’er-do-wells were thrown into at the Schloss, and that therefore they clearly were not considered properly criminal. She then turned her attention to the sorcerer.
“Herr Arnold, soon it will be down to you to act; you will only get one chance. Are you ready?”
“I hope so, that is, I’m sure I will be. Can you tell me again exactly what it is you want me to do?” he asked, his face paling a little.
“If the king is still suffering from his injury, which I am confident he will be, given the quacks he keeps around him who call themselves physicians, you are well placed to earn yourself a pardon for your crimes. Without that, you can forget returning to Evalina and picking up the threads of your life, so for pity’s sake, do pull yourself together.”
“Of course,” he nodded, straightening up a little and mustering a determined expression.
“Better,” Gretel told him. “Now, the idea is this. I will put your case before the king, painting the whole sorry business of your failed magic, covering up your ineptitude, and attempting to defraud the insurance company of a large sum of money, in as flattering a light as I am able. After that, I shall extol your skills as a surgeon and physician, and advise the king that he could find no one better to mend his painful foot.”
“Will he listen? Will he allow me to treat him, d’you think?”
“The king himself is not difficult to persuade of anything, providing you can make yourself heard.” Gretel experienced an uncomfortable memory of a recent encounter with the king’s deafness coupled with the overreacting tendencies of his aides and guards. “No, he will be the least of our challenges. Our greatest task will be to convince Queen Beatrice that you are a suitable and safe person to let loose on her husband. You will need to appear as sensible and serious as you have ever done in your life, Herr Arnold, make no mistake.”
“I understand.”
“I will bring the discussion around to the pain the king is experiencing, and this will be your cue. We do not know the precise circumstances in which we will be speaking, nor who will be present. It may be that I have to take … extreme measures to steer the discourse in the direction that suits our purposes. You must attend to my every word.”
“I shall!”
“Watch me closely, and wait for my signal. Let us say there will be a special word.” She thought for a moment, searching for something that would trigger a response in Ernst. “I have it! Jynx.”
“My little friend!” exclaimed the sorcerer, peering up his sleeve to smile at the sleeping bat.
“Quite so. When you hear that word, step forward and apply your spell for quelling pain.”
“As soon as I hear that word, yes.”
“What is more, you are to use only—and I stress, ONLY—the spell you work for the benumbing of pain. Nothing more.”
“Of course, yes.”
“This is of the utmost importance. No other magic at all. Do I make myself clear on that point?”
“Perfectly.”
“Good. Once you have removed the pain from the royal foot, it is my belief that all present will be impressed, and the king himself will be so relieved, that you will be allowed to proceed with your treatment as a physician and set the bones. I will bargain your skills against a pardon for you.”
“Fraulein,” the sorcerer began to look a little tearful and took hold of Gretel’s hand. “I cannot thank you enough for helping me like this. To think that all might yet be put right, and that I might be permitted to return to my darling Evalina … well, I shall be forever in your debt!”
“On the subject of which, we must also extract something of a fee from the royal
purse, so that you might set your finances straight once and for all. There are those who will demand recompense yet for your calamitous magic.”
“You think of everything!” he exclaimed. “But tell me, if Evalina is unable to claim on the insurance policy because I am living still, how will we be able to also pay the fee you have so diligently earned and so greatly deserve? It is a matter that preys on my mind, Fraulein, for I cannot see such devotion to duty, such hard work, such care go unrewarded, and yet I am at a loss to see how I might pay you your due.”
Gretel hesitated. She wanted to tell the sorcerer not to concern himself with this problem, but to explain why she was not concerned would mean revealing to him that, aside from taking his wife’s instructions, she had taken on the case on behalf of the insurance company too. She knew they would pay her when she provided proof of Herr Arnold’s existence, and given how things had turned out, it was as well she had had the foresight and perspicacity to hedge her bets in the way that she had. However, she could not rid herself of the sense that she had backed both boxers in the same ring. There was something a little unseemly, or perhaps lacking honesty, in working on a case where she would be paid if the missing man were alive, and paid by someone else if he were dead. Put so plainly, her position smacked of overriding self-interest. She preferred to think of it as astute business acumen, but even so …
“Do not concern yourself with my fee, Herr Arnold,” she said at last. “It is enough for you to know that I will be paid, but that I will not press yourself for that payment.”
Ernst did not have the chance to question her further as brisk footsteps interrupted their conversation. A key was turned in the lock once more. The hefty door was pushed open. And there stood Ferdinand. He looked every bit as attractive and manly and handsomely turned out as ever, which stirred within Gretel a complicated mixture of feelings. She did her best not to let any of them show.
Ferdinand stepped into the room and bowed low, his manner formal yet cordial.
“Fraulein Gretel, I beg your forgiveness. My sergeant is known for his zeal, which is sometimes misplaced.”
Gretel allowed him to kiss her hand, then wished she hadn’t when she noticed how grimy her fingernails were. Ever the perfect gentleman, if Ferdinand noticed he gave no indication of having done so.
“Your man is to be congratulated for carrying out his duties so conscientiously,” she said. “We have suffered no ill treatment.”
From Hans there came a small noise of dissent that everyone was able to ignore.
Ferdinand offered Gretel his arm. “Please allow me to escort you to more suitable rooms. I imagine you are all fatigued from your journey …”
“Indeed we are!” Hans put in.
“… and would welcome the opportunity to take some refreshment and perhaps bathe,” he said, tactfully not sniffing or looking at their clothes while he spoke.
“If I might trouble you for a change of clothing, Herr Uber General?” Gretel asked, taking care to address him in a businesslike manner. “As I indicated in my letter, I require an audience with His Majesty, and we are none of us currently in a fit state …”
“I will have the housekeeper find something more suitable,” he assured her. “Now, perhaps you would give me a little more detail regarding your plan?”
Gretel took his arm. “Of course,” she replied as she let him lead her out of the horrid room and up toward the more pleasant areas of the castle. “But first, tell me, how fares the king? The injury he sustained while out hunting, has it healed? Is he recovered completely?”
“Sadly, it has not, and King Julian still suffers greatly.”
“Ah!” Gretel exclaimed, failing to keep the triumphant note out of her voice. Two of the attendant guards and Ferdinand himself looked at her incredulously. “I mean to say, ahh, such a pity. It breaks my heart to think of our noble ruler suffering at all. Is it very bad?”
“Our physicians have made him comfortable while he is abed. However, the moment His Majesty tries to move,” here Ferdinand shook his head with genuine sadness, “well, then I am sorry to say the king experiences terrible pain that no one has yet successfully rid him of. And the broken bones in his foot are reluctant to heal.”
“Fear not, for I bring with me one who can effect a swift and painless cure.”
Ferdinand looked from Hans to Ernst and back again, evidently unconvinced by the possible candidates for this important task.
“Fraulein, as ever I trust your judgment, but …”
“I ask for that trust to continue, Herr Uber General. It is not misplaced. I know well that your loyalty to the king is beyond question and that nothing would please you more than to see him cured. I promise you, all will be well.”
They walked on through numerous grand rooms and halls, each with more marble, more gilt, more of everything that gleamed and glittered.
“There are rooms close by the main entrance that you may use. It is but a short walk then to His Majesty’s bedchamber. It is where he is currently receiving all visitors, as it is more comfortable for him to do so.” Here he indicated a grandly columned doorway to their right. “While you prepare yourselves I will inform the King and Queen of your arrival and your offer of assistance.”
“Do you think he will see us?” Gretel asked, briefly allowing her confidence to wobble.
Ferdinand did not have time to answer, for it was then a furious commotion erupted outside the main door. Raised voices and angry warnings echoed through the hallway, a passionate visitor having succeeded in having the door opened to allow him to enter the castle.
“What’s this now?” Ferdinand muttered, slipping away from Gretel to stand squarely in the center of the hall, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
It was a surprise to everyone present to see that the fuss was all caused by a single, unarmed man. A man soberly dressed, exceptionally neat in his appearance, but his face showing the rage that he brought with him, his stride telling of the urgency of his business at the Schloss.
“I will see the king!” he insisted loudly. “I must see him! It is imperative for His Majesty’s continued good health, nay his very life, that I be permitted to speak with him!”
There were gasps all around, followed by a good-heavens, from Hans, a you! from Herr Arnold, and a give-me-strength! from Gretel.
Ferdinand held up a hand. “State your name and your business here, sir.”
“I am Otto Voigt, Head Sorcerer of the Gesternstadt Sorcerer’s Circle,” he announced loftily, “and that man,” here he paused to wag a finger at Ernst, “is a charlatan and a fraud and should not be allowed anywhere near the king!”
Ernst stepped forward as if to speak but Gretel got there first, determined not to let him snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. They had come a long way and were now, literally, within strides of an audience with the king. She must not let this moment be taken from her.
“This man,” she declared, pointing at Otto, “has been responsible for three assaults on myself and my brother, and has himself on one occasion put our very lives in peril. His word is not to be trusted, for he has long wished to be rid of Herr Arnold and will, it seems, stop at nothing to bring about his downfall, no matter who else is harmed in the process.”
“You are certain of this?” asked Ferdinand.
“I am.”
Herr Voigt fairly spat with fury. “Foundless and groundless accusations! Where is your proof?” he yelled.
The door to the king’s chamber opened and a pale-faced aide hurried out.
“Uber General Ferdinand, what on earth is going on? Queen Beatrice has sent me to demand this racket be stopped immediately.”
“My apologies to Her Majesty,” Ferdinand said quickly. “There is no cause for concern.”
“There is indeed cause for grave concern!” Herr Voigt shouted. “This man … I will not call him sorcerer for that would be to denigrate the title … this man is dangerous, I tell you! To have him in the same building as our bel
oved sovereign is to invite calamity!”
At this point the assembled company fell to arguing, shouting over one another, bellowing, remonstrating, accusing, and denying all at once and with such force and volume that not one of them could be properly heard nor understood. Ferdinand did his utmost to quell this riot of slander and vitriol, but stopped short of having them all dragged away by the guards. Such a course of action might have been the only one left him, had not the door to the bedchamber been thrown wide and the queen herself appeared upon the threshold.
“What is the meaning of this hideously disrespectful and injurious noise?” she demanded. She was a plump, short woman, with unremarkable features and a thin voice, but her position, her royal blood, her terrifying power of life and death over just about anyone, lent a serious force to any words she uttered.
Silence descended.
Gretel seized the moment.
“Your Majesty,” she said, bowing low, trying to put from her mind the fact that she looked like a trollop and had been sleeping in a forest, “I bring good news—a physician capable of healing His Majesty this very day!”
Whereupon Otto Voigt began shouting again, Ernst joining in to defend himself, and the late-to-the-party sergeant-at-arms generally shrieking at everyone.
Queen Beatrice drew herself up and snapped. “Enough! Uber General, you may speak, and no one else. Is it true, what this … person says?”
Gretel would like to have reminded the queen who she was and shaken off the title of “person” then and there, but this was not the moment. She had to trust Ferdinand to make her case.
He too gave a low bow. “Yes, Your Majesty, I believe it may be.”
“May be? Am I to admit this curious rabble to the king’s bedchamber on the slender assurance of a may be?”
“I believe Fraulein Gretel is sincere in what she says, Your Majesty.”
Another silence took hold, filled with tension and unspoken thoughts. The queen considered the possibilities. In the end they came down to an ill husband or a healed husband. It had to be worth a try.
The Sorcerer's Appendix Page 19