by Zen Cho
“Come now, madam,” he added. “Cannot I persuade you to return the amulet? If you do so now, in a properly penitent spirit, the Queen may be moved to show you mercy. If not, I am afraid I shall be obliged to murder you all!”
He flung out his arms, then seemed to realise that the room had emptied out. Those guests who had not been put to flight by the appearance of a fairy bearing ominous warnings had departed the moment they understood the charges laid against Britain.
“Well, perhaps the Queen will be satisfied with the head of the Sorceress Royal alone,” said the Duke.
“Sir, I do not have the Virtu,” said Prunella. “And I wish you would explain why the Queen should suspect us of having conspired to steal it. We have no reason to wish to deprive her of a prized treasure, and every reason to desire to remain on good terms with the ruler of Fairy.”
“I wish I could explain to you the iniquity that lives in the heart of mortal man, but I confess it is beyond my own understanding,” said the Duke. “Perhaps you were jealous of Fairy’s splendour, or believed you might profit from aiding the Queen’s enemies. It is not for me to tell you what evil motives drove you. My duty is merely to recover the amulet—or deal out punishment.”
He shook back his sleeves. His hands glowed with a green light.
“I shall regret terminating the existence of the charming Mrs. Wythe,” he added, with a gallant bow. “But if I fail to return with either the Virtu or your carcass, the Queen will sentence me to unspeakable torments. You will appreciate that your death is much to be preferred to my own.”
Zacharias took an involuntary step towards the Duke, though he knew as well as Prunella that she was of all thaumaturges in England best-equipped to defend herself against a vengeful fairy. Prunella felt a stab of fear, but this only made her crosser than ever. She welcomed the hot rush of indignation, for it made it easier to be brave. She drew herself up, flinging back her head.
“Well, I never heard of such laziness in a Fairy courtier,” she said. “You need not think you will conceal your failure to do your duty, however. The Queen will hear about this!”
This was clearly not the response the Duke had expected. He was so taken aback that he lowered his hands, the green glow fading. “What do you mean? I was sent to kill you and I am about to do it.”
“Nonsense!” said Prunella snappishly. “If Her Majesty’s amulet has disappeared, it is your duty to recover it—you said so yourself. But I cannot see that you have made the least push to look for it. Instead you rampage about, hurling wild threats at the Queen’s allies. Why do not you undertake a proper search?”
“A search?”
“When I have mislaid my things, murder is not my first course of action,” said Prunella. “What I do is look for them—and quite often I find them!
“I don’t believe you will find this Virtu in Britain,” she added, “for we had nothing to do with the theft. But if you think you might, it is your duty to investigate. We have no secrets from our friends in Fairy. You are welcome to turn the kingdom out, and I hope you will accept my hospitality while you are it. This house has hosted many of your kin in the past.”
Her peremptory manner was having a salutary effect. The Duke was so nonplussed it did not seem to have occurred to him even to be offended at being harangued.
“You would like me to stay with you?” he said. “But I intend to kill you and all of your connections. Perhaps I did not make myself clear?”
“But that would not do anything to restore the Virtu to Her Majesty,” Prunella pointed out. “Surely it would be better for you to try to find the article? I should think having her treasure back would please Her Majesty better than our destruction.”
The Duke looked doubtful. “. . . Her Majesty finds nothing so cheering as a spot of indiscriminate slaughter.
“Yet,” he added, “there is something in what you say. The amulet must be found. Perhaps I will undertake a search after I have bedewed the soil of Britain with your blood . . .”
“Why, where is everybody?” cried a new voice. “Have they all gone? It is not even half past ten!”
Clarissa Midsomer stood at the door, as outraged as though it were a personal affront that the ball had concluded early. She blanched at the sight of the fairy.
Prunella glared at her old schoolfellow—Clarissa had always had an evil genius for making a nuisance of herself at the worst possible time. But then she saw the Duke’s face. He had fallen silent, looking thunderstruck.
“There you are, Miss Midsomer!” said Prunella, concealing her wonder. “I meant to ask after your mother. I heard she was taken ill and was obliged to depart. I hope she has recovered?”
“It was nothing,” said Clarissa. “My mother was only tired. I saw her home before returning.”
She had not taken her eyes off the Duke, and—what was even more extraordinary—the Duke seemed equally transfixed. He was gazing at the pendant hanging from the chain around Clarissa’s neck.
Perhaps it was no surprise that this should have drawn his attention. No other female in the room wore anything like it. The pendant seemed to belong far more to the alien splendour of Fairy than to English notions of elegance.
But the Duke seemed just as fascinated with Clarissa herself, for his eyes kept straying to her countenance. This struck Prunella as peculiar. She was not especially vain of her looks, but she knew she was accounted a remarkable beauty, whereas Clarissa was plain. If the Duke were to be struck with a sudden passion for anyone in the room, Clarissa Midsomer seemed an odd choice.
Prunella was not about to question the blessings of Providence, however. If Clarissa was capable of distracting the Duke from his murderous intentions, Prunella meant to make the most of it. She said to Clarissa:
“We have been honoured with a visit by an emissary of the Fairy Court, the Duke of the Navel of the Seas. I don’t suppose your brother has ever spoken of him to you?”
To the Duke, Prunella explained, “Miss Midsomer’s brother, Mr. Geoffrey Midsomer, has resided in Fairy as a guest of the Queen since his marriage to her niece Lorelei.”
“I am acquainted with the gentleman,” said the Duke, after a pause during which he seemed to have forgotten how to speak. He cleared his throat. “He never mentioned he had a sister!”
Under his rapt scrutiny, a pink flush began to creep over Clarissa’s face.
“Did you say, madam, that the Virtu is not in Britain?” said the Duke, turning to Prunella with reluctance. “You are confident of this?”
“I doubt there is any English magician who could rob Threlfall and survive,” said Prunella. “Threlfall’s caves are the closest-guarded in Fairy, as you know, sir.”
“And you have never seen the Virtu, I collect,” said the Duke. “You do not know what it looks like?”
“I have never seen it in my life,” said Prunella truthfully.
“It is not an object known to thaumaturgy,” added Zacharias. “But if you described it, sir, we could assist in your search.”
“There is no need for that,” said the Duke, with the air of one who had reached a decision. He bowed to Prunella. “You are in the right of it, madam. It is my duty to undertake a thorough search for the amulet. The delay may vex Her Majesty, but if I find the Virtu, that would compensate for all! After all, I could always kill you then and bear your head back to her as a token of my loyalty.”
“Quite,” said Prunella, contriving not to grimace.
“I shall be pleased to accept the offer of your hospitality,” said the Duke, apparently unconscious of having committed any failure in tact. “I have always had a great affection for Britain, and wished to know more of the country and its inhabitants.”
The Duke glanced again at Clarissa. Miss Midsomer cast her eyes down, her colour deepening. For once she looked far from cross.
“This,” said the Duke, “will be a
n ideal opportunity.”
12
MUNA
IT WAS PAST midnight by the time Muna returned to the Academy from the Sorceress Royal’s ball. As she undressed for bed, she felt as though she had aged a hundred years—as in the stories of the Unseen Realm, in which unwary villagers wandered into the jungle and emerged to find the world changed. Had the same day passed for Sakti, in the Palace of the Unseen?
Muna knew she should renew her attempts to persuade the polong to help her, not least as she would be subjected to lessons the next day. Henrietta had been anxious to assure the scholars that the Duke’s appearance would not disrupt the routine of the Academy (rather to the girls’ disappointment). But Muna had been out of sorts ever since she had arrived in England—sluggish and bemused, overtaken by fatigue early in the day. It was as though her body did not understand that she had left Janda Baik; it seemed still to be regulated by the sun of a different land. Extricating herself from her stays exhausted her last reserves.
She crawled into bed, promising herself she would rise early the next morning. She hoped she would feel equal to quarrelling with a wayward spirit then. She must take courage from the Sorceress Royal’s example. If Mrs. Wythe could face down a murderous ambassador from the Fairy Court, surely Muna could impose her will on a minor ghoul conjured forth from a few drops of blood.
When she fell asleep she dreamt of home—the heat of the day, the distant murmur of the sea and the coconut palms swaying in the breeze.
It was still dark when she opened her eyes. Her faculties were clouded with sleep, but she knew that something had woken her. She sat up and saw a gleam at the window.
Her first foggy thought was of Sakti. Perhaps it was a message— or even Sakti herself! Muna fell out of bed, stumbling towards the window, but she checked at the sight that met her eyes.
“Mrs. Wythe!” a glad voice cried, then: “Oh, I say! I beg you will forgive me. I must have got turned round on myself—mistaken you for another.”
A golden head hovered outside the window. It was shaped like the head of a horse, save that it was larger, covered in scales, and bore not only antlers but long graceful whiskers floating on the breeze. Pale eyes peered at Muna, blinking.
“Oh,” said Muna faintly.
“But I know you,” exclaimed the dragon. “You’re the girl that was in the window!”
Muna had recognised the creature too. It was the naga from which she had fled the day before. She froze.
The naga did not seem to notice her horror but said affably:
“This is a piece of good luck! I have been wishing I could beg your pardon. What you must have thought of me, lunging at you without so much as a how d’ye do! I ought to have introduced myself. Muggins!”
The naga paused, giving her an expectant look out of its great long-lashed blue eyes.
None of this was what one would expect from a monster intent upon one’s destruction, even though the friendly words issued from a mouth so dreadfully full of teeth. Muna squeaked, with automatic courtesy:
“I—I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Muggins!”
“Oh no, my name ain’t Muggins,” said the naga. “That is only cant, you know. I am making a mull of this! Poggs would give me no end of a dressing if he heard it. I am Robert of Threlfall, at your service, miss.”
Muna stared. “Robert of Threlfall,” she stammered. “But then—you must be Mrs. Wythe’s friend!”
“You are acquainted with the Sorceress Royal?” said the naga eagerly.
Muna introduced herself. “Mrs. Wythe has been so good as to receive me as a scholar at her Academy,” she explained. “The other scholars told me of you.”
“Then I am here!” said Robert of Threlfall, relieved. “My family have bound my magic—don’t want me getting rid of the guard and spiriting Poggs away. I had just enough magic left to make a door to the mortal realm, but when that did not answer . . .”
A thought struck Muna. “Was it a green door?”
“That was the one!” said the naga. “I was hoping to find Mrs. Wythe—thought you was her when I saw you at the window earlier. I only knew my mistake when you fled. Mrs. Wythe ain’t much given to fleeing.”
“No,” said Muna. “I can imagine she is not!” She felt called upon in ordinary courtesy to explain her own flight. “You see, you are the first naga—the first dragon—I have ever spoken to.”
“Honoured!” said the naga politely. “Well, the door used up the last of my magic, so I could not make another. But I’m a great hand at dreamwalking though you mightn’t think it, and I thought I might manage to enter Mrs. Wythe’s dreams even without magic. It has been dashed hard to navigate, however. I suppose that is why I have entered your dreams instead of hers. I do beg your pardon!”
“My dreams?” said Muna, puzzled. “But I am awake.”
The naga blinked. “No, you aren’t. What’s that on the bed, if you ain’t asleep?”
Muna turned and saw, with an unpleasant thrill, her own self stretched out upon the bed. She was sleeping in a most unbecoming position, a frown distorting her face.
It was disagreeable to see her body from the outside, as though she were at her own funeral, but it was worse to look down and see that what felt like solid flesh was in fact transparent. The moonlight shone right through her legs.
“Hadn’t you better sit down, miss?” said Robert of Threlfall solicitously.
“No,” said Muna, gulping, “I am quite well, thank you! It is only that I had not expected—that is to say, I thought I was awake.”
“Natural, I’m sure,” said the naga. “I beg your pardon for intruding upon your dream. I shan’t trouble you any longer. If you are at the Academy, Mrs. Wythe can’t be far off. I should think I ought to be able to find my way into her head.”
“But if you go to the Sorceress Royal, won’t you risk being detected?” said Muna. Brief as her acquaintance with the naga had been, it had sufficed to persuade her of what Mrs. Wythe had vowed—that there was not the least harm in the naga. She did not like to think of the poor blundering creature flying into a trap. “The Duke of the Navel of the Seas is staying with her.”
“Is he? That is very bad, I’m sure!” said the naga. He paused. “Who is the Duke of the Navel of the Seas, if you don’t mind telling me?”
“He is an emissary of the Palace of the Unseen—the Fairy Court, I mean,” said Muna. “And he has come to England to take vengeance for your offence.”
“My offence!” exclaimed the naga, looking anxious. “So the Queen knows the Virtu is lost, does she? There will be the devil to pay and no pitch hot! But what is this fellow doing at Zacharias’s house?”
Muna explained what had happened at the ball. “I do not know how far the Duke’s powers extend, but mightn’t he notice if you go to Mrs. Wythe now?”
“Very likely he will,” agreed the naga. “But what shall I do? I must speak with Mrs. Wythe, for they have got our friend under lock and key. And if she will not help us, I fear he won’t be long for this world—or any other!”
Muna reflected for only a moment, for the solution was obvious.
“Why do not you entrust your message to me?” she suggested. “I shall see to it that Mrs. Wythe receives it.” It was true she had not seen great success in her attempts to gain the Sorceress Royal’s attention so far, but Mrs. Wythe would certainly wish to hear news of the alleged thief of the Virtu. And if Muna took the opportunity to interest Mrs. Wythe in her troubles then, who would blame her?
Robert of Threlfall looked thoughtful.
“That might do,” he said. “Well, it will have to! I can’t risk being captured now, with Poggs in their clutches. They mean to offer him up to the Fairy Queen, you see!”
“Poggs is the friend you mentioned?”
“Yes. Though you had best say Damerell when you speak to Mrs. Wythe,” said
Robert of Threlfall. “Paget Damerell is his proper name. Poggs is only what I call him. When we was first acquainted I had less of the English than I do now.” He sighed. “It was many years ago. I had come to your realm looking for my aunt, but I ran into trouble and would have been done for if Damerell had not saved my life. I vowed to serve him to discharge my debt—the Code of Threlfall permitted nothing less—and that is how I came to live in England. It took me an age to learn to say Damerell’s name as it ought to be said, however. And he has never been able to pronounce my real name.”
Muna was intrigued. “What is your real name, sir?”
The naga said impressively, “If you can believe it, I was christened—Robert Henry Algernon!”
This seemed no worse to Muna than most English names, but then the naga let out a guttural roar, concluding in a spectacular gout of blue flame. She leapt back from the window, stifling a shriek.
“It is that last vowel that gives people difficulty,” explained the naga. “Even dragons mistake it half the time, and make it an orange flame. To own the truth, I never liked my name above half—far too showy! I beg you will call me Rollo. Everyone does.”
Muna said she would be pleased to call him Rollo, but she saw she must direct affairs if they were to get on.
“Why have they offered Mr. Poggs—Mr. Damerell to the Fairy Court?” she said. “And who are they?”
“Who else but my relations? No one else would be so wicked,” said Rollo. “My aunt Georgiana fears that the Queen will revenge herself upon us for the theft of the Virtu, so she means to offer Poggs to Her Majesty, in exchange for a pardon for Threlfall. In the meantime Poggs has been confined to a cage in Aunt Georgiana’s cave. My grandmother used to keep her princesses in it before she ate them.”