Fortune's Fool

by Mercedes Lackey

  Breaking one’s fast here was evidently considered of grave importance, judging by the number of dishes on that tray….

  The moment he sat down, the servant produced a tiny table and set it in front of him, whisked a napkin into his lap and laid out knife and fork. Then the parade of food began.

  The manservant presented him first with a cup of hot tea and a small plate of blinis with sour cream and caviar.

  These were followed by cheese blintzes, boiled eggs wrapped in ham slices, thick slices of bread that the manservant buttered for him, then layered with a thick slath-ering of jam, sliced fruit, sausages, egg pie, berries in cream…all washed down with more tea. If this had been Baba Yaga’s hut, he would have been seriously alarmed at this point, but he was fairly certain no one here was planning on making dinner out of him.

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  It was a far cry even from breakfast at his own father’s table, which, while certainly generous, was nothing like this.

  “There,” the manservant said, whisking away the last course and deftly removing the table—which, being solid copper, must have weighed more than Sasha cared to think about. “Now you are ready for Her Majesty.”

  Well that had an ominous ring to it. Nevertheless, he stood up and straightened his shirt. He needed to find a way to persuade the Queen to help him—or at least, let him go. Katya was out there, somewhere, and she needed his help and she wasn’t getting it with him in here.

  The manservant paused a moment. Sasha glanced at him. There was something about his expression—

  He had something to say. The question was—was this one of those cases where, Traditionally, it would be disaster and an insult to ask a question? Or was it the case where it would be “help from an unexpected source”?

  “You’ve been very kind to me,” Sasha said, diffidently.

  “I hope you know that I appreciate it. I know you haven’t just been doing your duty, you care about doing your duty and doing it well. That is a difficult thing, and very admirable.”

  The manservant’s green face darkened with a blush.

  “Most would never notice, and those that do never give it a second thought, my lord,” he replied.

  “Well the only reason I didn’t say something last night was because I was so tired I was drunk with exhaustion,”

  Sasha said, and laughed ruefully. “I may be a Prince by 260

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  title, but I have to tell you, I am a peasant compared to your Queen. And all this—” he gestured broadly “—is not the sort of thing I am used to. I hope I haven’t offended you with my barbarous ways. You’ve probably got nobler blood than I do!”

  Now the manservant chuckled dryly. “Blood is as blood will be, my lord, and it was and is a pleasure to serve you. But…” He paused. “It may not be my place to tell you this, and I am hoping you won’t take it amiss, my lord, but the Queen my mistress…is….an easy woman to serve, but a difficult one for someone who aspires…higher….” He paused significantly. It was easy for Sasha to read between the lines. The manservant was warning him about the consequences of courting the Queen’s attention.

  “I aspire to my Katya and no one else,” he said firmly.

  “Your lady may well be the most beautiful in all of the Kingdoms of the world, but it takes more than beauty to win a man’s heart.” He chuckled. “And love isn’t logical anyway.”

  And his own heart warmed just thinking of Katya at that moment.

  The manservant relaxed just a trifle. “Well then, my lord…the Queen my mistress is a most powerful creature as I am sure you are already aware. She rarely means anyone harm…but she is a creature of appetite and senses. She is fond of taking mortal lovers but…she is by her nature rather hard on them.” He sighed. “As I say, she rarely means anyone harm, but she can never really Fortune’s Fool

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  love a mortal. You are so short-lived, you see. The poor fellows generally end up breaking their hearts over her and coming to bad ends.”

  Sasha shook his head in commiseration. “Ah, that’s just a tragedy all the way around. Sad for them, sad for you who has to watch it, and sad for the Queen who means them no harm.”

  “Ah, sir,” the manservant said with relief. “You see how it is then. Well, follow me, and I will take you to the Audience Chamber. If you can amuse her or interest her, then there is much she could do for you in return.”

  Definitely help from an unexpected source.

  Sasha followed his guide down tunnel after tunnel, cut right out of the living rock and lit by more of the globes in copper sconces. Finally the servant paused and waved him through a doorway, beyond which Sasha could see a much smaller room than the chamber he had first encountered the Queen in.

  She was on another malachite throne, this one draped and softened with a throw made of sable fur. Her attention was occupied by two men with the manner and demeanor of advisers, but she glanced at him and smiled before turning back to them. He waited patiently. Waiting patiently was a job that princes, as a whole, got very good at.

  Eventually, whatever business was being transacted was quickly dealt with. The advisers bowed themselves out.

  Sasha was beckoned to, and he came forward and made the most elegant bow that he could. The Queen smiled.

  “I imagine that this is all a bit overwhelming for you, 262

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  Prince,” she said indulgently. “There are few mortals in the world that can match the wealth of my realm.”

  “I would not imagine that there are any at all,” Sasha said, and grinned. “But it isn’t so much the wealth that I admire, it’s the art. Majesty, the littlest and most ordinary of furnishings here is a work of art! Your carvers must be not only gifted but inspired!”

  He went on for a bit—quite genuinely—about his admiration for her craftsmen. But it was clear, at least to him, that she was trying to tempt him with her wealth. And truth to tell, yes, it was tempting. It would be a fine thing to live like this, surrounded by luxury and beauty, and every need or desire answered. A fine thing for a while.

  But it would get boring very rapidly.

  And in the meantime, what would he be doing?

  Nothing to make the world any better.

  No, this was not the life for him, even if he hadn’t met Katya. As it was, he would rather roam the Kingdom for his father with her than live in luxury without her.

  She stared at him clearly intrigued, reclining gracefully over one arm of her throne with her chin on her hand. “You astonish me, Prince. Most mortal men see only the value, not the beauty. But my people have had centuries to perfect not only their love of beauty, but their ability to create it.

  It is refreshing to meet with one who appreciates that.”

  He bowed his head to her. “It is a sad thing that mortal or any other creature cannot see a thing of beauty without wanting to know what it can buy, or lusting to possess it so no one else can have it.”

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  “Or to possess it for the power it gives.” She leaned back, and gestured at the chamber. “This is merely the outward aspect of power, Prince. It is not just that this realm has great wealth—it has equally great power. If we chose to exercise it in the world above us—”

  “Ah.” His eyes darkened. “But that would bring un-pleasant attention down on you. As you yourself have said, there are so many who see something and lust to take it to prevent anyone else from having it. No, my Queen, in the world above, there are far too many greedy creatures that would see your power, your wealth, and yourself and desire to command all three. One, two, or even three—yes, you and yours could hold against them.

  But they would never stop coming, my Queen. And eventually one of them would win. No, your power is best kept here, where it is. It is nonetheless strong for being hidden.”

  Her eyes lit up, and she beckoned to him to come nearer.

  Now, when a Qu
een and a powerful magician wants you to come closer, it is generally a good idea to obey.

  But Sasha knew very well what she was going to do. And it would be all without intending any harm at all, and second nature to her. All of that magic was about to be channeled into an attempt at seduction aimed at him.

  He had, in his way, fought many battles. This was going to be the hardest.

  It was just a good thing he’d had some practice at this sort of thing. How many Rusalkas had he encountered since he’d begun making the rounds for the King? The 264

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  one thing they had in common was that they almost always tried seduction first.

  “Wealth and power do not move you, Prince,” she breathed, her green eyes fixed on his, full of promise, her scent filling his nostrils, the heat of her body calling to him. “But beauty, now…is that your passion?

  Is that what can lure you when nothing else can?

  Come closer—”

  She bent down and curled one arm around his shoulders, like a velvet snake. The scent of her was a mingling of vanilla, musk, and amber. “Is beauty your heart’s desire?” she murmured, bending to kiss his lips.

  Hers opened as soon as they touched his, and her tongue darted into his mouth. He felt his body yearning for hers, felt the heat of her kiss shooting straight through him—

  But the one thing that saved him was this: her seeming passion was dispassionate. It was the form of passion but not the substance. There was heat, but no feeling; what she wanted was only sensation and nothing more.

  Compared with Katya, this was like the picture of bread compared to a fresh-baked loaf. And eventually, even through the kiss, his body realized that, too.

  She felt it, felt the resistance. She sat back up and stared at him, astonished.

  “There is a girl I love, Majesty,” he said, simply. “You are more beautiful than she, more radiant, more of everything. But the heart does not listen to anything but its own logic, and it is she whom I love.”

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  The Queen of the Copper Mountain blinked at him, as at a marvel the like of which she had never seen before.

  “So I see,” she said finally, and without rancor. “So I see.”

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  The Queen of the Copper Mountain had listened patiently and with growing interest as Sasha recounted the course of his adventures so far. By the time his narrative reached the point at which he had come into her hands, she was leaning forward on her throne again, an intrigued and amused smile on her face.

  The only time she had shown any sign of impatience was when he had waxed a little too lyrical on Katya’s virtues. As soon as he’d realized that, he had quickly moved on at that point, and privately chided himself for praising one woman to the face of the one she could not compete with. Not clever. Not clever at all. He then set about making his story as funny as possible to make her forget his little faux pas. It was actually a lot easier to do, if he ignored the growing anxiety he had for Katya, the Fortune’s Fool

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  growing uncertainty as to whether or not she was still all right. The business with the Goat and the Wolf was actually quite funny—although he had not seen the two rid themselves of the old hag, he could certainly imagine it, and he happily made up a description that was both vivid and funny enough to have her laughing aloud.

  When he finished, she nodded and steepled her fingers together as she leaned back into her fur. “You are loyal, Prince Sasha, a trait which I have seldom seen in the mortals who come into my world. You are loyal and steadfast.” She smiled a bit. “And you are most amusing.

  I have not laughed so much in a very long time. I am tempted to keep you here—but I think that you would not be so amusing if I made you my prisoner, however comfortable the prison. So I have instructed my people to provision you and take you to the surface—well away from that evil hag, Baba Yaga.”

  He wondered for a moment how she could have already “instructed her people”—but then, she and they were magic, and there was no telling what she could and could not do. So he merely bowed. “Thank you, gracious Queen.” He hesitated. “At this point, I have no idea what direction I should look in—”

  “Then if I were you, as your betrothed is the Sea King’s daughter, I would begin at the sea. My people will put you within reach of it.” She looked up; hearing a footstep behind him, he saw that the advisers had returned and were waiting in the doorway. “Now I must to my duties.

  Fare you well, Prince Sasha.”

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  Well versed in the way of royalty, it did not take having the manservant appear at the other door to tell Sasha he had been dismissed. He left the Queen of the Copper Mountain sitting on her malachite throne and followed in the wake of the manservant.

  “You did remarkably well, my lord,” the manservant said, leading him through tunnels that slanted upward.

  “You amused her without offending her.”

  “Call it my Luck,” he said with a shrug. “I try, but an honest man in my place would admit that what happens is as much because of Luck as skill.” The tunnels, low-ceilinged and only lit at intervals, were beginning to make him nervous. He found himself longing to be out and seeing the sun again.

  “I think it is more than merely luck. And here we are.”

  The room they entered was what Sasha would have called a guardroom or a muster-room. There were weapons and weapon racks hanging on the walls, and crates and barrels of supplies. Presiding over it all was a wizened old man, who, oddly enough, looked completely human.

  “Greetings to you, Pavel Romanovitch,” the manservant said to the old fellow. “The Queen wishes you to provision her friend so that I may let him out into the world above again.”

  The old man eyed him with astonishment. “By gad!

  She’s letting him go?”

  The manservant nodded gravely. “She was much amused, but he has a love to whom he is faithful, and she has released him to seek her.”

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  The old man cackled with glee. “See! I win my bet! I told you that one day there would come a man down here who would resist her wiles! By gad! This is good seeing!”

  The manservant smiled. “And now you are to provision him, and provision him well, we can send him on his way, and you and I will share that bottle I promised you.”

  “With a good heart!” The old man began getting things down off walls and out of barrels and boxes. Sasha watched with interest and growing glee as the man put together a rucksack stuff full of everything a traveler might want.

  “Weapons?” the old man asked, his hands hovering over a heavy crossbow.

  “Dagger and hunting bow,” Sasha replied, looking with regret at the armament arrayed along the wall.

  “Frankly, I’m not all that good with anything else, and no point in loading myself down with things I can’t use.”

  “Smart fellow,” the old man said with a nod, getting down a good hunting bow, a quiver of arrows, and a belt with a long dagger. “Now lad, as pretty as that outfit may be—”

  “It’s not fit to travel in,” Sasha interrupted, “I take it you have something better?”

  The old man laughed, and brought out much more practical gear. The only thing that Sasha retained was the boots.

  “Can’t better those,” Romanovitch said, with a nod of approval. “You might not believe it, but they’ll wear like iron. Now, the Queen said to provision you well, lad, so put this inside your tunic—” And he handed Sasha a coin pouch so fat it barely jingled.

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  Sasha took it with astonishment. “But I didn’t—”

  “’Course you didn’t ask for it. That’s why you got it.

  Now go on with you! Take that tunnel there. It’ll open out facing east. Just keep going east and you’ll strike the sea.”

  Sasha nodded, and took
himself out, leaving the manservant and the old man deep in a discussion of just what drink the manservant was going to supply for losing the bet.

  This last tunnel was mercifully short, and ended in a massive door. For a moment Sasha wondered how he was going to get it open alone, then he shrugged and tugged at it.

  It swung inside silently, with scarcely any effort at all on his part.

  He stepped out into the sunlight; the door swung shut again behind him, and when he turned around, he could not tell where, in the rock of the mountainside, it was.

  Face east, and keep going.

  He stood on a small ledge; a gravel-covered slope lay before him. He had emerged well above the tree line and, as he had expected, the sea was nowhere in sight. The Queen’s idea of what was within reach and a mortal’s were apt to be different. It looked as if his little sojourn with Baba Yaga had taken him far, far out of his path. But there was no hope for it, and the journey was not getting any shorter for standing there.

  The slope was quite slippery; he had to descend it by moving obliquely across the face of it, which was pretty much adding three times as much to the distance Fortune’s Fool

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  between him and the tree line. And what he was going to do when he got there—

  Make camp, I suppose, he thought dubiously, looking at the sun. If I don’t do so before I lose the light, it’d be awkward to try to find a place to hole up in the dark. The saints only know what’s in those woods, or out of them for that mat—

  And then, he froze, as the howl of a Wolf echoed across the face of the mountain.

  He looked frantically in all directions, but there was only one place where there was any cover at all—the forest down below. If there was a hunting Wolf out here, he needed to get somewhere that he could get out of reach. In a tree would certainly be his first choice—

  Throwing caution to the wind and with his heart pounding wildly, he began a precipitous run down the mountainside, boots slipping and sliding in the gravel.