The True Queen

by Zen Cho

Muna knew that there were several species of naga to be found in the many worlds. Some were noble, godlike beings who resided in bodies of water, granted wishes and blessed suitably respectful mortals with rain for their crops. Others were dangerous beasts, given to picking off maidens, hoarding gold and setting fire to villages that had displeased them. Evidently the Threlfalls belonged to the latter variety.

  “Mr. Damerell must be very uncomfortable,” Muna said cautiously.

  “He don’t like it in the least,” agreed Rollo. “My grandmother always thought fermentation improved a princess’s flavour. Aunt Georgiana has never been able to get the smell out of the cage.”

  While Muna absorbed this, he went on, “I begged to be surrendered instead, since it is me they have accused of stealing the Virtu, but Aunt Georgiana would not listen to me. She has far too much clan loyalty to allow a Threlfall to be sacrificed, even if she thinks I deserve it.

  “I wish I had never brought Poggs out of England,” Rollo said sorrowfully. “But when my aunt summoned me she insisted he should come along and be introduced to the family. It has always vexed her that he would not agree to a wedding.”

  “A wedding?” said Muna, thinking she had misheard. “Does your aunt wish to marry Mr. Damerell?”

  It was extraordinary what powers of expression the naga’s reptilian face possessed. Rollo looked appalled. “Aunt Georgiana marry Poggs? Good heavens, no! She would like me and Poggs to be married. It is the usual thing for bondmates, and I don’t think Poggs would object, though it ain’t the custom in England for males to marry. But Poggs still has relations living that hope he may be prevailed upon to marry a mortal female—his cousin Elizabeth promised to leave him her fortune if he would do it. He doesn’t mean to oblige her, but he is loath to set a seal upon her disappointment by having a draconic wedding.”

  “Oh, indeed,” said Muna. She was certainly learning a great deal about the world that had not been apparent in Janda Baik. “But, sir, you were telling me of how Mr. Damerell came to be imprisoned. Why does the Fairy Queen believe you stole her amulet?”

  “Well, I tried to steal it, didn’t I?” said Rollo judiciously. “Natural misunderstanding on Her Majesty’s part. I don’t say she has responded in anything like a sensible fashion, mind you. Absurd to raise such a storm over a gewgaw!”

  “So you did steal the talisman?” Muna felt foolish. How naive she was to have trusted the naga so quickly, based on nothing more than an engaging manner!

  “I must say that was very wrong of you,” she said severely. “If you had heard Mrs. Wythe scolding the Duke on your behalf . . . ! She told him upon her honour that you would never have done such a thing.”

  “Nor would I,” said Rollo, with feeling. “After all, to steal from your own uncle! Not the thing at all.”

  “Then why did you do it?” demanded Muna.

  “It was this hell-fired banquet of the Queen’s,” explained Rollo. “That was where the trouble started. The Virtu was to be the centrepiece, so my uncle Harold was summoned to Court. The fact that the Queen appointed Threlfall as guardians of the Virtu is accounted a great honour within the clan; they hand it around the relations, and it happened to be Uncle Harold’s turn. He has a large cave in the south of Threlfall, guarded by rakshasa, and he kept the Virtu in a chest made out of his own mother’s rib cage.

  “Well, my aunt Georgiana could not bear the thought of Uncle Harold’s having the glory of being invited to Court and perhaps having a taste of the Virtu himself.” (Rollo’s family were certainly the hungry sort of naga, thought Muna.) “She told him she would be mistress of ceremonies at the Queen’s banquet, not an idle scobberlotcher that had never taken any thought for the clan. But when she demanded he give her the Virtu, Uncle Harold refused. He said he did not give a fig for the Queen’s ceremonials, but he would be damned if he would miss a chance to do Aunt Georgiana an ill turn!”

  “It is always sad when one’s relations fall out,” said Muna sympathetically.

  “One grows accustomed to it in my family,” said Rollo. “That is why I left for England.” He shook his head. “There is no getting away from one’s relations for good, however. Aunt Georgiana sent for me and desired me to pinch the Virtu, so as to show Uncle Harold he could not set her at defiance.”

  Muna said, nonplussed, “But why? Could not your aunt have done it herself? Not that I mean to question your suitability for the task . . .”

  “No doubt about my suitability,” said Rollo. “I was wholly unsuitable. Bungled the affair. Told her I would! But my aunt would not dream of dirtying her own talons with such a task. Anyone else would bite her in the neck as soon as her back was turned, but my aunt knew I would not play her false. More fool me!”

  “But then it is not so bad,” said Muna encouragingly. “You could go to the Duke now and explain that it was all a mistake. There has been no theft, for after all the Queen entrusted the Virtu to your family and there was never any intention that the article should leave its charge. You could return it and that would be an end to the matter.”

  “Return the Virtu!” said Rollo bitterly. “I jolly well wish I could return the Virtu. I haven’t the faintest idea where the dashed thing is.”

  “But you said you stole it,” cried Muna.

  “I tried to steal it,” Rollo corrected her. “And it is unjust of Aunt Georgiana to say I could not have tried very hard, for she did not see Uncle Harold’s rakshasa! I was obliged to eat the poor chaps, for they wouldn’t yield. Unpleasant—very!” A shiver went along the naga’s wings. “After all that, to open the chest and find that the Virtu was not there! I can tell you it gave me a shock.”

  “Oh,” said Muna blankly.

  “I must have looked tolerably silly when Uncle Harold’s servants found me,” said Rollo. “But no one would credit that the Virtu was missing when I got there. The family is persuaded I have sold it to discharge my debts of honour. Only Aunt Georgiana believes me, but that is no help, for she is just as vexed with me as all the others.”

  “Why don’t you explain that it was she who put you up to it?”

  Rollo drew back his head, giving her a look of reproof. “That would be shocking bad form, to peach upon one own’s aunt! I should never be able to hold my head up again.”

  Muna could hardly reproach anyone else for loyalty to an exasperating relation. “What am I to ask Mrs. Wythe to do, then?”

  “It is Poggs I fear for,” said Rollo. “I can’t break him out without my magic. But if Mrs. Wythe can only contrive to get him out of Threlfall, I can look to myself. My aunt has gone to the Fairy Court, so Mrs. Wythe need only contend with my brother Bartholomew. He has been set to guard Poggs, but she would make short work of him. Mortals possess a natural advantage in Fairy, though they mayn’t know it.”

  “But even if Mrs. Wythe succeeded in rescuing Mr. Damerell, where could she take him that would be beyond the reach of the Fairy Court?” said Muna. “Surely the Queen’s wrath would follow him wherever he went.”

  “That don’t worry me. It ain’t Damerell the Queen is vexed with, but Threlfall,” said Rollo. “If he is lost, Her Majesty’s wrath will fall where it belongs—on our heads. But the Queen won’t wish to risk a war with Threlfall, not when she has lost the Virtu.”

  “Why not? She must have other amulets.”

  “None like the Virtu,” said Rollo. He lowered his voice. “No one likes to talk of it, for it was a great scandal at the time, but the Virtu holds the magic of a powerful fairy—an enemy of the Queen. She defeated them and locked their heart in a talisman. Anyone who holds the Virtu could challenge the Queen. She cannot afford a quarrel with Threlfall now.

  “Even if she does declare war on Threlfall,” he added, “I don’t intend that Poggs will be sacrificed on our account. I told him when we were bonded that he should not suffer from the bond, and I mean to keep my word!”

  Mun
a was disquieted to see a large crystal tear roll down from one blue eye.

  “Come, there is no need to cry,” she said briskly. She felt sorry for the naga, but Mak Genggang was always brisk when anyone gave way to tears, mingling scoldings with reassurances. It seemed to Muna that this was the right approach to adopt with Rollo. “I will tell Mrs. Wythe all you have told me and she will see to it that Mr. Damerell comes to no harm.” She paused, thinking. “She will need directions to Threlfall, I expect.”

  “Directions alone won’t suffice,” said Rollo. “Aunt Georgiana has concealed her cave with magic arts, so it cannot be seen by anyone outside the family.”

  He hesitated. “Will you take a gift from me? You will need to open the window. I give you my word I shan’t do you any harm.”

  Muna had already decided what she would do with the message Rollo had entrusted to her, if she could. She tamped down on her trepidation—After all, she told herself, if he wished to do you any injury, he could have done it before!—and opened the window.

  The naga said, “Hold out your hand.”

  A golden scale dropped on Muna’s palm.

  “Give that to Mrs. Wythe,” said Rollo. “If she swallows it, she will be able to see through the wards around Aunt Georgiana’s cave, for it has some of my magic in it. My relations haven’t bound Mrs. Wythe, so she ought to be able to use my magic, even if I can’t. She can return the scale to me when she comes.”

  Muna stared down at the scale. “But you said this was a dream.”

  “Put it on your tongue, and when you wake it will still be there,” said Rollo. “It is a part of my dream I have given you, you see. There ain’t such a difference between dreaming and waking for me.”

  It was dark and quiet, with not a sound from the street, but suddenly the naga raised his head, as though he heard something. An alert look came over his face.

  “I had better wake if I am not to be discovered,” he said. “My body is sleeping in Aunt Georgiana’s cave, but anyone who happens to look in is bound to notice my soul is out wandering. You will ask Mrs. Wythe to come as soon as she can? I don’t know when my aunt will return from the Court.” He began to fade, the great golden body dissolving into the air, starting from the tail.

  “I will,” promised Muna. “I don’t doubt she will send help as soon as she can. The Duke’s report has made her extremely concerned on your behalf.”

  “Oh, I am of no consequence. They won’t eat me,” said Rollo. “Only get Poggs away and I can slip off later, once the dust has settled.” Only his head remained, but even that disappeared by degrees, so that his final defiant words issued from a disembodied jaw. “Then see if I ever return to Threlfall again—aunts or no aunts!”

  13

  MUNA WOKE IN the morning to the recollection that her first class in magic was to take place that day. She would be obliged to adopt the pretence of being a magical prodigy, possessed of sufficient power to attract the patronage of Mak Genggang.

  The thought was so hideous that she sat bolt upright. From the quality of the light it was still early, but she had only a few hours before lessons began. She had made no provision to ensure that she did not disgrace herself. Why had she not given thought to the problem the night before?

  “Idiot!” she said aloud.

  A golden scale dropped from Muna’s mouth onto the sheet, and her dream came back to her in a rush—the naga and his tale, and the scheme that had grown up in her mind as he spoke.

  She snatched up the scale. There was a writing desk opposite the bed, in which Muna found pen and paper. She sat down and wrote a letter to the Sorceress Royal, scribbling in her haste to record everything she recalled before it was lost, for she knew dreams were soon forgotten in the light of day.

  Only once the gist of what Robert of Threlfall had told her was fixed in writing did she pause, looking up.

  She had propped the scale against the wall. Even in that dim room, faintly illuminated by the thin light of dawn, it shone with a wonderful brilliancy.

  Muna was not doing anything wrong. It was true that Rollo had told her to give the scale to Mrs. Wythe, but it was not as though the Sorceress Royal could be spared for a rescue mission to Threlfall. While the Duke of the Navel of the Seas remained in Britain, so must she. Mrs. Wythe would not have occasion to use the scale herself.

  Muna had promised Rollo she would convey his message to the Sorceress Royal and that was just what she would do. Indeed, she would do more—she would see to it herself that he received the help he so urgently desired.

  She dashed off the last few lines and sealed her letter. Then she took the scale and put it on her tongue.

  It did not taste of anything in particular, but it was an awkward shape to swallow. Muna choked it down with difficulty, the edges scraping the tender insides of her mouth.

  Once she had got the scale down she inspected herself, then the room around her. But absorbing Robert of Threlfall’s magic did not seem to have made any immediate difference. She could only hope it would give her the ability Rollo claimed for it when the time came.

  There was an experiment she could carry out—a test that would show if she had absorbed the naga’s magic. She got on her knees, drawing out the bottle containing the polong from underneath the bed.

  This time when Muna recited the verse, red smoke bubbled out of the bottle at once. It dissipated to reveal the polong, looking peevish.

  “Where did you find the power to do that?” she demanded. “You said it was your sister that had the magic.”

  “So I do have magic now!” said Muna, pleased. “I hoped I might, but I could not tell that there was any difference. I have need of your aid, kak.”

  The polong eyed her balefully. “Do you wish me to torment an enemy?”

  “No, but—”

  “There is a theft you desire me to commit, then?”

  “No theft, but—”

  “I have told you I will have nothing to do with any reckless attempt to rescue your sister!”

  Before the polong could dive back into her bottle, Muna said, “No, no, that is not why I called you. I need your help to perpetrate a—a fraud. That is a sort of wickedness, isn’t it?”

  To Muna’s relief, the polong paused, a gleam of interest lighting her eyes.

  “What sort of fraud?” she said cautiously.

  “I am to begin my lessons in English thaumaturgy today,” said Muna. “If I am not to disgrace myself before the English, I must convince them I am a witch.”

  The polong looked disappointed. “You have no need of my help for that. It is easily done. Simply mutter an ayah or two from the Qur’an and toss about some rice paste, and you will be as much of an enchanter as any of the dozens of charlatans who call themselves magicians back home.”

  Muna gave the polong a severe look. “Oh yes, that will give the English a fine impression of Malay magic! They are not villagers to be bamboozled by tricks, but magicians themselves. What will they think of Mak Genggang if the protégée she sent them is revealed to be nothing but a quack?”

  The polong tossed her head. “It is of no account to me what anyone thinks of That Woman!”

  Muna had expected that the reference to Mak Genggang would hold little weight with the polong, but that was not the chief weapon in her arsenal.

  “But it is not just her reputation that is at stake,” she reminded the spirit. “It is the fate of Janda Baik. The only reason the island has not been snapped up by greater powers is that they fear the cunning and magic of our witches. If the English conclude the witches of Janda Baik are neither cunning nor magical, what is to stop them from invading us? They have conquered Malacca and they mean to take Java, and everyone says Janda Baik will be next. You are a daughter of Janda Baik too, sister. You do not wish to see it overrun by foreigners, I am sure!”

  “Why should not the English take the isla
nd if they want it?” said the polong. “One king is much like another, wherever they are from.”

  But Muna had swayed her. She spoke without conviction.

  “It would be such a little thing for one of your great powers,” said Muna coaxingly.

  “What would you have me do?” said the polong. “It is not as though I could educate you in the whole corpus of Malay magic. That would take too much time—and more magic than you possess, even now. It is good strong spirit-stuff, your magic, but not nearly enough to make a real witch of you. You ought to have taken more.”

  “I did not steal any magic,” said Muna with dignity, though her conscience pricked her. In swallowing the scale she had certainly appropriated what was not intended for her. It did not assuage her guilt to tell herself that she had greater need of the scale than the Sorceress Royal, so she pushed the thought away, turning her mind back to the business at hand. “I need not set myself up as an authority on Malay magic; I shall put them off if they ask for a demonstration. But they will expect me to learn their English spells. That is what worries me!”

  “Is that all?” said the polong. “Why, that is nothing!”

  For all her initial reluctance, the polong was clearly as fond of laying down the law as Mak Genggang. She grew more cheerful as she told Muna what she must do.

  It seemed simple enough—so simple that Muna could not help feeling doubtful. “Surely that will never work? If magic were so easily performed, then everyone would do it.”

  “You are at liberty to ignore my counsel, of course,” said the polong with awful civility. “I am sure you know best. Do whatever you think will impress the English. It makes no difference to me!”

  The bottle leapt out of Muna’s hand, clattering on the floor. The polong waved a haughty arm, drawing a circle of red smoke around herself.

  “I did not mean to contradict you, kak,” said Muna hastily. “Pray do not be offended! I am most grateful for your advice, and will do just as you say. There is another favour I would ask of you.”