Princess Juniper of the Hourglass

by Ammi-Joan Paquette

  “I’ve been thinking about the cold box,” Leena cut in. “I think I can figure a way to work it in this spot where the stream runs especially deep . . .” She hesitated. “If Your Highness’ll grant me permission?”

  Juniper waved a hand. She liked the way Leena felt free to speak up with suggestions. The silent movement of some others around the circle, lacking any visible expression, left her vaguely worried. Were they unhappy with their tasks? Did they feel put-upon or overworked? She wondered how her father dealt with these sorts of issues. Though maybe it didn’t matter so much if you were an actual ruler and not just playacting at a summer kingdom.

  Leena had gathered up her team and was shuffling them toward the riverbank, so Juniper hastily went on. “Paul and Oona, you’ll get the garden started.” There was an awkward silence. She looked up. “What? Is there a problem?”

  Oona looked like a bug caught under a water tumbler. She was standing next to Tippy, who nudged her hard and stretched up to whisper in her ear.

  “Come on, then!” Juniper burst out. “I can’t organize things if you won’t talk to me!”

  “It’s only,” Oona said miserably, her face scarlet, “only that you put me first in the animal group and again now in the gardens. I don’t know which one to do.”

  Juniper could have laughed out loud. That was all? She looked down at her list and saw that, yes, she’d duplicated Oona’s name on her job assignments.

  “Look,” she said, addressing them all, “I’m not some kind of iron-fisted ruler. We’ve got to pull together to make this country work, to make it our own.”

  “Aren’t we required to do as you say, then?” asked Jessamyn, with a saucy tilt to her chin.

  “Well, yes, you are, actually. But I’m not . . .” She paused—should she really say this?—then barreled recklessly on. “I’m not always going to be right. That’s a fact. So you should always come to me if you’ve got questions or aren’t sure about something I said. There’s got to be leadership; it’s like that anywhere. But it’s going to take us truly working together for this to be a success. And that’s what we’re here for, after all!”

  After that, the rest of the task assignments went smoothly. Oona went with Paul to the gardens. Sussi volunteered to look into the water situation and set up some boundaries for the official boys’ and girls’ privies and make a bathing rotation list. Alta grudgingly admitted that she could build a pretty decent oven, given the time and ample supply of that heat-conducting rock that was so abundant in these parts. And nobody was dodging dish duty, which Juniper counted as a particular win.

  “The planting team’s on the small side, and we want to get the seedlings into the ground as quick as possible,” Juniper went on, consulting her notes. “So, Jessamyn, you can join Paul’s team.” She’d had Cyril, Root, and Jessamyn in their own group, but hunting the noble boys down for work wasn’t something she had the stomach for at the moment. Easier to just put Jessamyn on an existing task.

  But Jessamyn set her plate down next to her rock and stood up, smoothing her rumpled skirts. “No, I shouldn’t think so. I’d planned to take in some sun and finish reading the new Flower Bard Epic today. You all can carry on without me, I’m sure.”

  Juniper felt heat rush to her face. She jumped to her feet and cut Jessamyn right off. “Oh, no you don’t! You’re part of this team—you’ve got to be.” In desperation, she nearly stomped her foot. “You’re on the list! You’ve got to do it!”

  “Do I?” Jessamyn asked. “I don’t see Cyril or Root working, so why should I? My papa promised me I might do as I pleased this summer, and it pleases me to spend my time in the pursuit of leisure.” She raised her chin defiantly. “If you want to know, I should much rather be back at home in my own boudoir, but so long as I have to be here, I certainly will not be digging around in the dirt like some common clod!” Eyes flashing and skirts swinging, Jessamyn shoved her pewter dish aside with her foot and swept off in the direction of the caves.

  The painful silence ground on Juniper’s nerves like broken glass.

  Finally, Tippy spoke up. “What was the second thingum?”

  Juniper looked at her blankly.

  “Way back at the start of our meal. You said you had two things to tell us. What were the second?”

  “Ah, yes!” Juniper grabbed eagerly at the change of subject. “About our moving-in party. It’s to be a small one, mind—this shan’t be our grand ball, not yet—but we’ll have a little after-­dinner celebration. Two nights from now, I thought. We’ll be more settled in by then, and ready to celebrate our brand-new country. We can gather in the Great Tree, get dressed up, and bring out our sweetest of sweetmeats. And I shall introduce you all to the glory that is the Musicker!”

  This was met with general enthusiasm, which reassured Juniper somewhat. Still, she couldn’t help but notice how more than one head swiveled off to stare in the direction Jessamyn had gone. And at her dirty dish, sitting defiantly on the edge of the circle.

  • • •

  Juniper stewed over the Jessamyn problem all day, and on into the next. While she took her turn digging privy pits, while she lugged stones for the oven, while she squatted by the stream washing her dish at the end of each meal. By the following night, as she and Erick readied the Great Tree for that night’s festivities, her mind was a tangle of uncertainty and discomfort.

  “What should I have done?” she asked, for probably the tenth time. “I should have been firm with Jessamyn, I know I should have. Cyril and Root, too—they just waft in for meals and don’t lift a finger. It’s not right, and everyone knows it! I keep opening my mouth to tell them ‘no work, no food.’ But I can’t quite get it out.”

  How to stand up to Cyril, that was the problem. Long years of adopting a hide-and-avoid strategy were proving very hard to break. Truthfully, he intimidated her far more than she dared confess.

  Erick smiled in sympathy.

  “It’s ever so much harder to be bold on the second step than the first, isn’t it? I should have made Jessamyn do the gardens that first day, should have gone to Cyril and that Root’s cave with their work tasks and seen to it that they did them. Right from the start.”

  “And how would you have enforced it?” Erick asked, tacking a colorful twist of ribbon onto the center base of the tree. “It’s not like you could drag them bodily to the fields and sit on them until they began working.”

  “Oh, but think how satisfying that would have felt!” Juniper giggled, then got serious again. “I didn’t imagine I should have so hard a time wrestling with these laggards. That’s not the way I pictured my grand summer kingdom.”

  Erick shrugged. “Aren’t all the best things worth fighting for, though?”

  “I don’t suppose I’ve done much of that yet, have I? Fighting?”

  With a grin, Erick quipped, “A house solidly built is its own defense, but a weak foundation invites trouble.”

  “Why, Erick Dufrayne, how wise you are!” she said, jabbing him in the ribs. “Quotations and everything. I knew I made the right choice for my chief adviser.”

  Erick’s cheeks colored. “Um . . . it’s just something I once—”

  “Read in a book. I know.” Juniper grinned. “You’re right, though. That is the important thing, book or not. Now come over here and help me get this Musicker going.”

  “I’ve been wondering how that works. Let me guess—it’s got a chamber inside with dozens of tiny sackbut players and a harpsichord or two? Ready to play on demand?”

  “Aren’t you smart,” she scoffed. “You’ll see for yourself once we get it going.”

  The long, squat Musicker rested on a low table stand that Roddy had built that morning. A sturdy hand crank jutted out of its side. “Turn that,” she instructed, then lifted the polished wood top and peered in at the maze of gleaming gears and knobs and latches and buttons. As Erick churne
d, the mechanisms ground to life and began to glide along under their own power, moving with a low, friendly purr.

  “Don’t ask me how it all works, for I couldn’t say,” she said. “But I do know this. Every bit of this device is set up with music in mind. There’s any number of gongs and bells and musicky whizbits tucked inside, and when you slide this lever . . . you see?” As she spoke, a gentle stream of sound began to rise from the box. It sounded like harp music—tinny and boxed, for certain, but clear and recognizable nonetheless. She moved the lever to the right and the music sped up, with what sounded like strings weaving in to the rest. Still farther, and some trumpets joined in. Now she felt like lifting her heels and dancing.

  “Does it play actual songs?” Erick asked, still turning the crank.

  “I don’t think so. The way it was explained to Papa is that the musical components are all there, and a certain mechanical intelligence, if you will, throws the sounds together in a variety of pleasing combinations. So you choose your speed and instrumentation, and the device does the rest. I suppose you’d never get the same music twice, if it works as it should.” Juniper considered Erick’s pumping arm. “Also, it doesn’t need to be cranked incessantly. Once it’s started up with gusto, it will run for some long minutes. When the energy begins to flag, we take another turn at it.”

  The music was coming loud and strong now, filling the tree house. Before she could fully settle into it, however, a voice broke into her thoughts.

  “Is this the right time, Your . . . Juniper? For the party?” Sussi had cleared the landing, and now stood with the air of a crawfish dropped into the wrong pot.

  “Oh, certainly! You’re right on time. At least . . . I think you are. The timepiece is out in the dining area, I’m afraid.” She grinned. “But that’s as may be. We are ready for the party. Only . . . didn’t you want to get dressed up?”

  Sussi bumped a step forward as Leena came up behind her. The two girls exchanged an awkward glance. Sussi smoothed a thin hand across her crumpled skirts. “I have worn my best,” she whispered.

  Leena lifted her chin in quiet confidence. “We don’t have anything better, miss,” she said. “These are our finest, and we had to wear them for our travel as well.”

  Juniper’s cheeks flamed. Suddenly, she was sharply conscious of her fresh-curled hair, her powdered cheeks, the crimson watered-silk skirt swishing above her matching calfskin slippers. “Of course,” she murmured. “I’m dreadfully sorry.”

  The girls shifted uncomfortably back toward the staircase. “Maybe we should—” Sussi began.

  Juniper dashed over and grabbed each one by a hand. “I’ve been a dunce,” she said, tugging them to the center of the floor. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Here.” With that, she tugged from her collar a hammered-silver brooch in the shape of a flying bird, clipping it onto Leena’s fusty brown dress. Then she undid her creamy silk sash and tied it around Sussi’s waist in a giant bow. “A little better?”

  The girls grinned.

  “Now, you must taste these cheese straws, for without a doubt, I have not ever had the like!”

  “And the music, miss,” said Sussi. “It’s—”

  “It’s some form of deviltry, that’s what it is,” came a harsh voice, crashing through the room like a rock hammer.

  Juniper spun around.

  Cyril’s head was just breaching the edge of the boards as he pulled himself up to the main landing. A loud muttering behind him said that Root was close on his heels. Of course he was.

  “What are you doing up here?” Juniper asked, squeezing her hands into fists, pushing back the mild panic that always came with Cyril’s arrival.

  “We’re holding a party, aren’t we?” Cyril strode around the platform. “Hmmm, a rather tawdry décor you’ve started out with. Wax candles—unscented, I see. What are these streamers made from? And the floor throws . . . well!”

  That was the last straw. March in here and insult her mother’s throw rugs, would he? Reaching deep inside, Juniper scraped together her courage. “They’re genuine chamois pelts, if you must know. But what I’m really wondering is what you are doing here. We are having a small party, celebrating a half week’s work well done, and I don’t remember inviting you. In fact, this is the first time I’ve seen you all day!” Once she finally took the plunge, standing up to Cyril felt surprisingly good. The tree house was pindrop-quiet. Root and Jessamyn stood on either side of Cyril, and Oona was climbing up to the landing, with Toby close behind.

  Erick was right. Some things were worth fighting for. And this kingdom, her kingdom, topped that list.

  Juniper turned to the Musicker and pulled the volume bar all the way down. Those moments were all she needed to steady her voice and make it smooth and hard. “Cyril and Root. I have not seen either of you each morning when I hand out work assignments, though you’re quick enough to collect your food at meals. And, Jessamyn . . . you still refuse to take part in any tasks, though you well know my disapproval.” Oh, they knew, all right! Their smirks were pure malicious glee. “Well. I’ll be hobbled if I’m letting you come to our party and sit in our tree house and listen to our music—celebrating our settlement, our country—while you refuse to take part in the work needed to make that country run.”

  She raised her chin and looked Cyril right in the eye. “You can’t have it both ways. You’re either part of our group—and that means doing your share of the work, too—or else you’re not. And if not, then you’re not welcome here.” She took a deep breath. “Not for our parties, and not for our meals, either. You work with us, you share our food. Otherwise you can fend for yourselves.”

  The landing was full now, as the last of the kids had arrived for the evening’s event. Heads swiveled between Cyril and Juniper, like spectators at a summer’s butterfight.

  “So, what’s it going to be?” Juniper challenged.

  Cyril gave a careless shrug. He stepped forward, as though to move past Juniper toward the platter of crispy cheese sticks. But she sidestepped to stay right in his way.

  “What is it going to be?”

  He stared her full in the face, and she forced herself not to flinch. At last he lowered his eyes, barked out a laugh, and kicked at a bauble that had fallen from the branch above. The delicate object hit the trunk with a dull crack, but Juniper didn’t take her eyes from his.

  “Come on, everybody,” Cyril spat. “We can find better entertainment elsewhere.”

  He spun on his heel and launched himself over the side of the platform. Root followed and, after a moment’s hesitation, Jessamyn did, too. Oona took a half step after Cyril, then quickly turned back to the main group. No one else moved.

  Juniper forced a smile. Had she done the right thing, making Cyril choose like that? Well, hunger was bound to bring him back to the group before long.

  “That certainly was awkward,” she said into the bone-still room. All she wanted right now was to forget that rabble-rouser even existed. “I think we’ve had quite enough unpleasantness for one evening. You’ve all worked hard, and we’ve seen some amazing progress.”

  She looked around the circle, the positive words buoying her flagging spirits. “So let’s put all that aside, shall we? You’ve earned your time off. We needn’t give those party wreckers another thought.”

  She spun around and pulled the Musicker’s volume back up, then slid the lever right to its topmost beat. Stringed music—fast, rhythmic, irresistible—pulsed out of the tiny sound holes. Juniper’s feet began tapping of their own accord. “Who loves to dance?” she called out, fluffing her skirts.

  Then the drumbeat began, and the night erupted in a swirl of stamping feet and sweaty cheeks and rowdy, uproarious laughter.

  Just one evening of peace, that was all she wanted. Tomorrow she’d think it all through carefully, figure out what to do next. Tomorrow she’d worry about the threat to her
fledgling kingdom.

  It was a threat she knew would keep.

  IT SOUNDED LIKE PART OF THE MUSIC, AT FIRST: a high-pitched noise undercutting the melodic tones of the Musicker. Tippy was the first to notice something was wrong. Juniper caught her looking anxiously from side to side, and once she turned her own attention from the swishing skirts and stomping feet, Juniper heard it, too. Pushing through the dancing bodies, Juniper flung herself on the Musicker and snapped it off.

  All gazes swung in her direction, and for a moment, the silence was a blanket, thick and damp. Then the sound came again. It was a scream, loud and terrified, coming from somewhere outside the tree house and seeming to reverberate everywhere at once.

  “That’s Jessamyn!” Erick said. He dashed for the staircase, with Alta almost treading on his fingers in her haste to follow.

  “You stay up here,” Juniper said when Tippy moved to come along, too. She raised her voice. “All of you stay in the tree house—we’ll go find out what’s going on and be right back. I repeat, nobody leave here until we return!” The little speech cost her precious seconds, and by the time she reached the base of the tree, Alta and Erick had vanished into the darkness ahead. From down here, though, the shrieks were more easily distinguishable, and Juniper had no trouble following in their direction.

  She came upon Erick and Alta moments later, by the newly built animal pens, which lay in a deep smother of darkness. The two were bent over a crumpled shape that resolved itself into a quivering Jessamyn.

  “She seems unharmed,” Erick said, pulling Juniper aside while Alta comforted the frantic girl. “But she’s in a true state of panic. We haven’t gotten her to tell us anything at all.”

  They quickly decided that the best thing was to get Jessamyn back to her room. Despite the darkness, the path wasn’t hard to find, for the stones that soaked up the sun’s heat by day also glowed faintly in the moonlight. The glimmer brightened as they neared the cliff, and by the time they hit hard stone and began their uphill climb, Juniper could make out the others’ expressions: Erick’s was uncertain; Alta’s was resolute; Jessamyn’s was blank with shock. She’d stopped wailing, at least, and didn’t seem to have any trouble walking.