by Jack Vance
In point of fact, Madouc had tarried not an instant. As soon as Lady Desdea had turned her back, she slipped around the outskirts of the company to where Dhrun and Shimrod stood, beside the most remote of the oak trees. Madouc's arrival took them by surprise. "You come up on us with neither ceremony nor premonition," said Dhrun. "Luckily we were exchanging no secrets."
"I took care to use my best stealth," said Madouc. "I am free at last, until someone searches me out." She went to stand behind the bole of the oak. "Even now I am not safe; Lady Desdea can see through stone walls."
"In that case, before you are dragged away, I will introduce my friend, Master Shimrod," said Dhrun. "He too can see through stone walls, and whenever he likes."
Madouc performed a prim curtsey, and Shimrod bowed. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I do not meet princesses every day!"
Madouc gave a rueful grimace. "I had rather be a magician, and see through walls. Is it difficult to learn?"
"Quite difficult, but much depends upon the student. I have tried to teach Dhrun a sleight or two, but with only fair success."
"My mind is not flexible," said Dhrun. "I cannot think so many thoughts at once."
"That is the way of it, more often than not, and luckily so," said Shimrod. "Otherwise, everyone would be a magician and the world would be an extraordinary place."
Madouc considered. "Sometimes I think as many as seventeen thoughts all together."
"That is good thinking!" said Shimrod. "Murgen occasionally manages thirteen, or even fourteen, but afterward collapses into a stupor."
Madouc looked at him sadly. "You are laughing at me."
"I would never dare laugh at a royal princess! That would be impertinence!"
"No one would care. I am a royal princess only because Casmir makes the pretense-and only so that he can marry me to Prince Bittern, or someone similar."
Dhrun looked off across the lawn. "Bittern is fickle; he would make a poor match. Already he has turned his attention elsewhere. For the moment you are safe."
"I must issue a warning," said Shimrod. "Casmir is aware that you are a changeling, but he knows nothing of Suldrun's first-born son. Should he gain so much as an inkling, Dhrun would be in great danger."
Madouc peered around the tree to where King Casmir sat with Sir Ccnac of Knook Keep and Sir Lodweg of Cockaigne. "My mother cited the same warning. You need not worry; the secret is safe."
"How did you happen to meet your mother?"
"I chanced to be in the forest, and there I met a wefkin named Zocco who taught me how to call my mother, and I did so."
"She came?"
"Instantly. At first she seemed a bit cross, but in the end she decided to be proud of me. She is beautiful, if somewhat airy in her manners. Nor can I help but think her capricious, giving away her lovely baby as if it were a sausage-especially when that lovely baby was I. When I brought the subject up, she seemed more amused than otherwise, and claimed that I was subject to tantrums, which made the change only sensible."
"But you have outgrown these tantrums?"
"Oh yes, quite."
Shimrod mused upon the subject. "A fairy's thoughts can never be guessed. I have tried and failed; there is better hope of catching up quicksilver in your fingers."
Madouc said wisely: "Magicians must consort often with fairies, since both are adepts in magic."
Shimrod gave his head a smiling shake. "We use different magics. When first I wandered the world, such creatures were new to me. I enjoyed their frolics and pretty fancies. Now I am more settled, and I no longer try to fathom fairy logic. Someday, if you like, I will explain the difference between fairy magic and sandestin magic, which is used by most magicians."
"Hm," said Madouc. "I thought that magic was magic, and that was all there was to it!"
"Not so. Sometimes simple magic seems hard and hard magic seems simple. It is all very complicated. For instance-by your feet I see three dandelions. Pluck their pretty little blossoms."
Madouc bent and picked the three yellow blooms.
"Hold them between your two hands," said Shimrod. "Now, bring your hands to your face and kiss both thumbs together."
Madouc raised her hands to her face and kissed her thumbs. Instantly the soft blossoms became hard and heavy inside her hands. "Oh! They have changed! May I look?"
"You may look."
Madouc, opening her hands, discovered three heavy gold coins in place of the dandelion blossoms. "That is a fine trick! Can I do it myself?"
Shimrod shook his head. "Not now. It is not so easy as it seems. But you may keep the gold."
"Thank you," said Madouc. She inspected the coins some what dubiously. "If I should try to spend the coins, would they become flowers again?"
"If the magic had been done by fairies: perhaps, perhaps not. By sandestin magic, your coins are gold and will remain gold. In fact, the sandestin may well have purloined them from King Casmir's strongbox, to save himself effort."
Madouc smiled. "More than ever I am anxious to learn some of these skills. It is useless asking my mother; she lacks all patience. I inquired about my father, but she claimed to remember nothing, not even his name."
"You mother seems a trifle airy, or even absentminded."
Madouc gave a regretful sigh. "Absentminded or worse, and I still can show no pedigree, either long or short."
"Fairies are often careless in their connections," murmured Shimrod. "It is a sad case."
"Just so. My maidens-in-attendance call me 'bastard'," said Madouc ruefully. "I can only laugh at their ignorance, since they are referring to the wrong father."
"That is coarse conduct," said Shimrod. "I should think that Queen Sollace would disapprove."
Madouc shrugged. "In these cases I dispense my own justice. Tonight, Chiodys and Devonet will find toads and turtles in their beds."
"The penalty is just, and would seem persuasive."
"Their minds are weak," said Madouc. "They refuse to learn, and tomorrow I will hear it all over again. At first opportunity I intend to search out my pedigree, no matter where it lies hidden."
Dhrun asked: "Where will you search? The evidence would seem to be scant, even non-existent."
"I have not thought the matter through," said Madouc. "Probably I will apply again to my mother and hope to stimulate her memory. If all else fails-" Madouc stopped short. "Chlodys has seen me! Look how she scampers off with the news!"
Dhrun frowned. "Your present company is not necessarily a scandal."
"No matter! They want me to beguile Prince Bittern, or perhaps Prince Garcelin, who sits yonder gnawing a pig's foot."
"The remedy is simple," said Shimrod. "Let us sit at a table and gnaw pigs' feet of our own. They will hesitate to alter such definite arrangements."
"It is worth a trial," said Madouc. "However, I will gnaw no pig's foot. I much prefer a roast pheasant well-basted with butter."
"So do I," said Dhrun. "A few leeks to the side and some bread will suit me nicely."
"Well then: let us dine," said Shimrod.
The three seated themselves at a table in the shade of the oak, and were served from great silver salvers by the stewards.
Lady Desdea meanwhile had gone to take instruction from Queen Sollace. The two engaged in a hurried conference, after which Lady Desdea marched purposefully across the lawn to the table where Madouc sat with Dhrun and Shimrod. She stopped beside Madouc and spoke in a voice carefully controlled: "Your Highness, I must inform you that Prince Bittern has urgently begged that you do him the honour of dining in his company. The queen desires that you accede to his request, and at once."
"You must be mistaken," said Madouc. "Prince Bittern is absolutely fascinated by that tall lady with the long nose."
"That is the distinguished Duchess Clavessa Montfoy. However, please take note: Prince Cassander has persuaded her to take a turn on the river before proceeding with the banquet. Prince Bittern now sits alone."
Madouc turned
to look; indeed, Prince Cassander and the Duchess Clavessa were strolling off toward the dock, where three punts floated in the shade of a weeping willow. The Duchess Clavessa, although perplexed by Prince Cassander's proposal, continued to exercise her usual effervescence, and chattered away at a great rate. Prince Cassander was less effusive; he conducted himself with urbane politeness but no great zest. As for Prince Bittern, he sat looking after the Duchess Clavessa, slack-jawed and glum.
Lady Desdea told Madouc: "As you see, Prince Bittern is anxiously awaiting your presence."
"Not so! You misread his posture. He is anxious to join Cassander and Duchess Clavessa on the river."
Lady Desdea's eyes glittered. "You must obey the queen! She feels that your place is properly with Prince Bittern."
Dhrun spoke in cold tones: "You would seem to imply that the princess now sits in unsuitable or demeaning company. If this discourtesy is carried any farther, I will instantly protest to King Casmir, and ask him to deal with what would seem a gross breach of etiquette."
Lady Desdea blinked and drew back. She performed a stiff bow. "Naturally I intended no discourtesy. I am only an instrument of the queen's wishes."
"The queen, then, must be at some misapprehension. The princess does not wish to deprive us of her company, and she seems quite at her ease; why create a fiasco?"
Lady Desdea could proceed no farther. She curtseyed and departed.
With a drooping mouth Madouc watched her go. "She will take vengeance-needlework and more needlework for hours on end."
Madouc turned a thoughtful glance upon Shimrod. "Can you teach me to transform Lady Desdea into an owl, if only for a day or so?"
"Transformations are complicated," said Shimrod. "Each step is critical; if a single syllable went awry, Lady Desdea might become a harpy or an orc, with the whole countryside at peril. You must delay transformations until you are more experienced."
"I am apt at magic, according to my mother. She taught me the 'Tinkle-toe Imp-spring', that I might fend off bandits or louts."
"I don't know that particular effect," said Shimrod. "At least, not by that name."
"It is simple enough." Madouc looked here and there, around the lawn and down the slope toward the river. Near the dock she took note of Prince Cassander, who was politely seating Duchess Clavessa in a punt, while at the same time making a gallant remark. Madouc arranged thumb and finger, muttered: "Fwip!" and jerked her chin. Prince Cassander gave a startled outcry and jumped into the river.
"That was the low strength or low virtue method," said Madouc. "The other two virtues are more notable. I saw Zocco the wefkin jump a good six feet into the air."
"That is a fine technique," said Shimrod. "It is neat, quick and of nice effect. Evidently you have not used the 'Tinkle-toe' in any of its virtues upon Lady Desdea?"
"No. It seems a bit extreme, and I would not want her to jump past her ordinary ability."
"Let me think," said Shimrod. "There is a lesser effect known as the 'Sissle-way', which also comes in three gradations: the 'Subsurrus', the 'Sissle-way Ordinary', and the 'Chatter-fang'."
"I would like to learn this effect."
"The sleight is definite but subtle. You must whisper the activator-schkt-then point your little finger, thus and so, and then you must hiss softly-like this."
Madouc jerked and twitched, her teeth rattling and vibrating. "Ow-wow!" said Madouc.
"That," said Shimrod, "is the first virtue, or the 'Subsurrus'. As you have noticed, the effect is transient. For greater urgency, one uses the 'Ordinary', with a double hiss: 'Sss-sss'. The third level is, of course, the 'Chatter-fang', where the activator is used twice."
Dhrun asked: "And what of three hisses and three activators?"
"Nothing. The effect is vitiated. Speak the activator, if you like, but do not hiss, since you might startle some unsuspecting person.''
"Schkt, " said Madouc. "Is that correct?"
"It is close. Try again, like this: Schkt."
"Schkt."
"Precisely right, but you must practice until it becomes second nature."
"Schkt. Schkt. Schkt."
"Well done! Do not hiss, please."
They paused to watch Prince Cassander slouching despondently across the lawn toward Sarris. Meanwhile Duchess Clavessa had rejoined Prince Bittern, and had resumed her conversation where it had been left off.
"All worked out well," said Shimrod. "And here is the steward with a platter of roast pheasants. This is culinary magic with which I cannot compete. Steward, be so good as to serve us all, and do not stint."
IV
The celebration had run its course, and Sarris was once more tranquil. In the estimation of King Casmir, the event had gone moderately well. He had entertained his guests with suitable amplitude which, while falling short of the lavish extravagance favored by King Audry, still would go far to dispel his reputation for parsimony.
Jocundity and good fellowship had ruled the occasion. Save for Cassander's fall into the river, there had been neither bitter words nor quarrels between old enemies, nor incidents which might have provoked new resentments. Meanwhile, because of Casmir's insistence upon informality, the questions of precedence, which often gave rise to embarrassing disputes, were avoided.
A few disappointments marred the general satisfaction. Queen Sollace had urged that Father Umphred be allowed to utter a benediction before the banquet. King Casmir, who detested the priest, would hear none of it, and the queen indulged herself in a fit of pink-nosed sulks. Further, Princess Madouc had not perceptibly helped her prospects: perhaps to the contrary. It had long been planned that Madouc should show herself to be a mild and winsome young maiden who must inevitably develop into a lovely damsel renowned for her charm, decorum and sympathy. Madouc, while reasonably polite or, at worst, apathetic with the older guests, produced a different version of herself for the young grandees who came to study her attributes, and showed herself to be irresponsible, perverse, elusive, sarcastic, wrongheaded, supercilious, sulky and so tart in her comments as to verge upon the insulting. Morleduc's disposition, already questionable, had not been improved by Madouc’s innocent question as to whether sores covered his entire body. When the vain and arrogant Sir Blaise8 of Benwick in Armorica disposed himself before her, looked her up and down with cool detachment and remarked, "I must say, Princess Madouc, you do not at all resemble the naughty little harridan that your reputation suggests," Madouc replied in her silkiest voice: "That is good to hear. Nor do you seem a perfumed popinjay, as I have heard you described, since your scent is not one of perfume." Sir Blaise bowed curtly and departed. And so it went with all the others, excepting only Prince Dhrun, which brought King Casmir no pleasure. A connection in this quarter would advance his policies not at all-unless, of course, Madouc could be persuaded to transmit to him the state secrets of Troicinet. King Casmir gave the idea only cursory consideration.
At the first opportunity Lady Desdea expressed her dissatisfaction to Madouc. "Everyone is most upset with you."
"What is it this time?" asked Madouc, her blue eyes innocent.
"Come now, young lady!" snapped Lady Desdea. "You ignored our plans and flouted our desires; my careful instruction was no more than the droning of an insect. So then!" Lady Desdea drew herself up to her full height. "I have taken counsel with the queen. She has decided that your conduct calls out for correction, and wishes me to use my best judgment in the matter."
"You need not exert yourself," said Madouc. "The celebration is over; the princes have gone home and my reputation is secure."
"But it is the wrong reputation. In consequence, you shall be set to double lessons for the rest of the summer. Further, you will not be allowed to ride your horse, nor even go near the stables. Is that clear?"
"Oh yes," said Madouc. "It is very clear."
"You may resume your needlework at this moment," said Lady Desdea. "I believe that you will find Devonet and Chiodys in the parlor."
Rainy weath
er came to Sarris and lingered for three days. Madouc wistfully occupied herself with the schedule arranged for her by Lady Desdea, which included not only interminable hours of needlework, but also dancing lessons of a particularly tiresome nature. Late in the afternoon of the third day heavy clouds drifted across the sky, bringing a night of rain. In the morning the clouds were gone and the sun rose into a fresh and smiling world, fragrant with the odors of wet foliage.
Lady Desdea went to the small refectory where Madouc was accustomed to take her breakfast, but found only Devonet and Chiodys, neither of whom had seen Madouc. Odd, thought Lady Desdea. Could Princess Madouc have kept to her bed, by reason of illness? Perhaps the princess had gone early to the conservatory for her dancing lesson?
Lady Desdea went to investigate, only to find Master Jocelyn standing idly by the window, while the four musicians, playing lute, pipes, drums and flute, rehearsed tunes from their repertory.
Master Jocelyn, in response to Lady Desdea's question, merely shrugged. "And if she were here: what then? She cares nothing for what I teach her; she skips and jumps; she hops on one leg like a bird. I ask: 'Is that how you will dance at the Grand Ball?' And she replies: 'I am not a devotee of this foolish strutting and smirking. I doubt if I will be present.'"
Lady Desdea muttered under her breath and turned away. She went outside to look up and down the terrace, just in time to discover Madouc perched proudly on the seat of a pony-cart with Tyfer trotting briskly off across the meadow.
Lady Desdea gave a cry of outrage, and sent a footman to ride after the pony-cart and bring the truant princess back to Sarris.
A few minutes later the pony-cart returned, Madouc now crestfallen and Tyfer moving at a slow walk.
"Be so good as to dismount," said Lady Desdea.
Madouc, her face screwed up into a resentful scowl, jumped to the ground.
"Well then, Your Highness? You were expressly forbidden to use your horse or to go near the stables."
"That wasn't what you said!" cried Madouc. "You told me that I was not to ride Tyfer, and I am not doing so! I summoned the stableboy Pymfyd and required that he bring up the cart, so I never so much as approached the stables."