Ivi was rocking back and forth rather than swaying. She was furious. She knew the song wasn’t for her, although I doubt she knew it was for me.
“I smile and cry
and wish the love had come
without the sorrow,
because they’re now combined,
entwined in my marrow,
sprouting from my fingers,
pouring from my lips,
sorrow and joy
love and love
love and love.”
He left the stage and returned to his seat. We joined hands again.
Ijori’s mother, Princess Elainee, sang. My nervousness mounted. Ivi came next.
Sir Uellu nodded, and several servants left the hall. I assumed they had something to do with the toast, and sure enough, while Princess Elainee finished her song, they filed back in, carrying goblets of mead.
Ivi mounted the stage. The serving maids moved through the hall, distributing drinks.
Ivi licked her lips. I thought of not singing and letting her send me to prison. She opened her mouth, and I came in.
“Ayortha, I miss my lord.
I miss my heart that still
lives …”
A serving maid climbed to the stage to bring Ivi her drink.
“… in his chest.
I miss his whisper in my ear …”
Behind me there was a crash and the sound of breaking glass. Oochoo jumped up. Still illusing, I turned around, along with everyone else, to see what had happened. I sang,
“Saying, This is Ayortha.
This is our home …”
just as Ivi yelled, “You clumsy fool. You—”
Everyone turned back to gape at the queen, who had mead running down the front of her gown as she shrieked and sang at the same time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
IT WOULD ALL come out now. I turned to Ijori. “I had to. I didn’t want to.”
Ivi was still yelling at the serving maid. “You ninny, see what you’ve done?”
She would blame me and send me to prison. Mother and Father would lose the Featherbed. I felt the tears come.
Ivi cried, “Oh!” in a surprised voice. Then, “Oh, I forgot to sing. I’ll resume.” She looked at me, and then she must have noticed the quality of the silence.
After a moment’s pause she shrilled, “I’m sick of singing Ayorthaians. Every day I have a headache. Oscaro wouldn’t want me to have headaches.” She gathered herself and then announced, “From now on there will be no more Sings in Ayortha and no more singing in the castle.”
She ran off the stage and out of the hall. Uju began to follow her, then thought better of it. The other guards didn’t move.
I let go of Ijori’s hand and rushed after her. I had to apologize for continuing to sing. I had to beg her to take pity on Mother and Father.
She heard me behind her. She whirled and screamed, “Bungler, monster!”
“Your Majesty, please—”
“Go away, fright!” She started running again. “Leave me alone, horror!”
I stopped and turned around. Ijori was in the doorway of the Hall of Song. I went to him, and we stepped back inside.
Everyone had crowded into the space between the stage and the seats. They were talking or shouting or singing. Several people sang that they’d never stop singing. Others wondered what magic Ivi had performed to both sing and speak at once.
Sir Uellu’s voice sliced through the hubbub. He sang, “Will the other members of the king’s council come with me? Lady Aza, please come.” He turned. “Bailiff?”
The bailiff, a gray-haired, stocky man, swam through the crowd.
“Master Ebbe,” Sir Uellu said, “please come, too.”
I wondered if the bailiff was for Ivi. Or for me. Or for both of us.
Princess Elainee and Master Ogusso, a music illuminator, joined us. Master Ogusso was the commoner on the council. The choirmaster and the prince were also members, and the queen made the council complete.
A scullery maid began the first line of the Song of Ayortha. Everyone joined in, singing with the spirit that had been lacking all night. They were singing as we left. Oochoo stopped licking up spilled mead and loped after us.
The bailiff’s pike clanged against the tile floor with each step he took. I felt the clanging in my bones.
Ijori walked next to me. I wanted to explain before Ivi started lying. “I didn’t want to sing for her. I tried to refuse.”
“Swee—Lady Aza, what do you mean, you sang for her?”
Sir Uellu said, “All will be explained very soon. Lady Aza, please wait.”
I was afraid to wait, but I said no more.
Princess Elainee looked around the echoing corridor. “How could she have taken our birds? They never hurt her.”
No one answered.
Ijori touched my arm. He asked Sir Uellu, “Why do you need Lady Aza?”
The choirmaster only said, “Soon.”
He knew everything. My steps flagged.
He said, “Come, Lady Aza.”
We reached the royal wing of the castle. As we approached Ivi’s door, it flew open. Oochoo ran ahead. The rest of us stopped.
“Finally!” Ivi appeared in the doorway and saw us. She edged away from Oochoo and drew herself up. “Oh. I didn’t call for you, but the bailiff and Prince Ijori may stay.”
Sir Uellu continued toward her, singing, “Your Majesty issued a command tonight that will never be obeyed.”
Her voice rose. “Don’t sing at me! Bailiff, I want my guards.”
Master Ebbe said, “Your Majesty—”
Sir Uellu cut him off. “There is much to be spoken of before we speak of guards.” He swept past her, into her chambers.
We followed. Ivi stood defiantly in the center of the room. Ijori remained with me just inside the door. The only light came from two candles in sconces over the dressing table. I noticed that Skulni was on the dressing table. Sir Uellu began to light a lamp on the mantelpiece.
“How dare you! I don’t want a light.”
He ignored her and won the upper hand. The defiance went out of her stance, and she became disarmingly fragile.
I wished I could do that. She looked piteous, and I was going to need pity.
With the change in Ivi, much of the tension left the chamber. Princess Elainee and Master Ogusso seated themselves, she in the easy chair, he on the ottoman.
I sat on a stool at the foot of the bed. Ijori stood over me protectively. Oochoo rested her head in my lap.
Sir Uellu rocked back on his heels and folded his arms. “Your Majesty, Lady Aza has been singing for you, am I correct?”
Ijori took a step away from me.
So quickly. So readily.
“Yes.” Ivi’s voice was small and childlike. She sat on the bench by the fireplace and looked up at him. “You’ve found her out. Yes.”
Found me out?
Master Ogusso said, “Singing for someone? What chicanery is that?”
“I suspect,” Sir Uellu said, “that our queen’s voice is worse than mediocre.”
“No one here would like it,” Ivi said in the same small voice. “But in other kingdoms they might.”
Princess Elainee said, “How do you sing for someone, Lady Aza?”
I put my hand in front of my face. “It’s … I …” My throat closed.
Sir Uellu went to Ivi’s washstand and poured a tumbler of water from the pitcher. “Here.”
I drank. “I call it illusing.”
Ijori sang, “Did Her Majesty command you to do it?”
I nodded. “She threatened to close the Featherbed and throw me in prison.”
“She’s lying!” Ivi said. “She said she’d sing for me if I’d make her my lady-in-waiting. That’s what she really said.”
It sounded so true, obvious even.
Sir Uellu turned to the bailiff. “Master Ebbe, we have need of several guards.”
For me?
Mas
ter Ebbe bowed to Sir Uellu and left.
“How do you do your illusing?” Ijori said. His voice softened. “Aza …” He changed his mind. “Don’t lie.”
“I never wanted to lie.” I swallowed back tears and described illusing.
Master Ogusso asked Sir Uellu, “Is this possible?”
“Show us,” Sir Uellu said.
“Wait.” The tears came. I couldn’t illuse and weep at the same time. I sipped more water.
Ivi said, “She showed me right after Oscaro … after my lord …”
I placed the tumbler on the floor. Princess Elainee jumped as I illused in her speaking voice, “Aza hated tricking people.”
Oochoo raised her head and barked.
The princess said, “I didn’t say that!”
Ijori said, “Then why didn’t you tell me?”
I deepened my voice to imitate Master Ogusso. “Aza was frightened.”
Master Ogusso sang, “This is astonishing.”
“How do you do it?” Princess Elainee asked.
I shook my head, too distressed to answer.
They waited.
Finally I said, “I’m not sure.” I paused. “It started with the hiccups.”
While I was explaining, Master Ebbe returned with three guards. One stood at the door to the chamber, one at the door to the wardrobe closet and the king’s empty bedchamber, and one loomed over me.
The council members tried to illuse—all except Ijori, who went to the window and stared out into the night.
I wished I could illuse words into his mouth and make him mean them, words like “I believe you.” Words like “I know you too well to think you’d enjoy duping people.” Words like “dear heart, sweet, love.”
He said, “Oochoo, come.”
She went to him, wagging her tail. He patted her head. She licked his hand and then returned to me and curled up at my feet.
A dog could judge ostumo.
“I can’t illuse,” Master Ogusso said, giving up. “My throat must be arranged differently from hers.”
Princess Elainee said, “Even if Lady Aza sang for Her Majesty tonight, Queen Ivi herself commanded us not to sing.”
“She told me to!” Ivi said, glaring at me. “She said that if we were ever found out, I should distract everyone by ordering them not to sing.”
“We never spoke of being found out.”
Ijori’s back was to the room, but I saw him watch my reflection in the window.
I sang:
“I’m an
innkeeper’s daughter.
An honest inn,
the Featherbed.
No rooms for
deceivers.”
“I don’t believe Her Majesty was blameless,” Sir Uellu said. “She was weak, certainly, and—”
“I was powerful!”
“… and her judgment was poor. However, a pernicious influence was at work, which even a stronger mind couldn’t resist.” His gaze shifted to Ijori.
“What influence?” Princess Elainee asked. “Whose influence?”
I wondered if Sir Uellu had identified the advisor Ivi sometimes spoke of.
“I can now explain both the illusing and the extraordinary rise to prominence of an innkeeper’s daughter.”
My heart rose into my throat.
“Lady Aza’s voice has power and range beyond anything I’ve heard.” He looked in turn at Master Ogusso, Princess Elainee, and Ijori. “What quality do several of the best singers in Ayorthaian history share?”
Ijori looked blank, then shook his head vehemently.
Princess Elainee said, “Oh!” in a shocked voice.
Master Ogusso said, “You mean …?”
Sir Uellu nodded. “They had a drop or two of ogre blood in their veins.”
I felt as if I was falling. I remembered the library keeper singing about Queen Amba: that she had a marvelous voice, and people thought she was an ogre’s great-granddaughter.
Sir Uellu was still speaking. “Lady Aza, I suspect, has more than a few drops of ogre blood. She may be an ogre’s first cousin. I had only to hear her and look at her to think it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
IVI LOOKED SURPRISED and delighted.
I had never felt such fury. I stood and sang, flooding the room with sound. “I am no ogre!”
But I wasn’t sure.
I lowered my voice and spoke. “I am no traitor.”
Ijori stared at me, as they all did, as if I were a creature in a menagerie.
I sang, flooding the room again, “I am loyal to Ayortha-a-a-a-a.” I held the a, made it reverberate against the walls.
Oochoo barked. The bailiff nodded at the guards. I continued to blare forth. A guard advanced on me. I stopped singing.
Ijori sang, his voice full of horror. “I kissed you!”
I hated him.
Both Ivi and Princess Elainee cried, “You kissed her?”
“I wish you hadn’t,” I said. “Someone as faithless as you.”
At least he looked disconcerted.
“She can’t be allowed to do this illusing,” Princess Elainee said. “We can’t trust our ears.”
“She did worse than illusing,” Sir Uellu said. He addressed me. “You won the queen’s affections and gave her advice that would cause a rebellion.”
“Rebellion!” Ivi cried.
I sank onto the bed. “I didn’t! I wouldn’t! Why would I?”
“Ah!” Sir Uellu said. “Because you’d also insinuated yourself into the prince’s affections. The queen would be overthrown. You’d marry the prince and become queen.”
The room was spinning.
“He’d marry her?” Ivi said.
Ijori said softly, “I’d hoped to wed her.”
“Oh, son,” Princess Elainee said.
I was going to faint, or retch. I lowered my head to my lap.
“Wed her?” Ivi said. “Wed her! Guards! Imprison her.”
My stomach churned. I stood and lurched to the washstand. Oochoo came with me. As I threw up into the basin, the others decided it would be too dangerous to consider my fate in my presence. The bailiff stationed guards outside. The council and Ivi exited into the king’s bedchamber. Ijori called Oochoo, and she left me.
I was alone. I collapsed onto the rug. I closed my eyes and didn’t move for a long while.
If I’d been pretty, I’d have been safe. If I’d had an ordinary voice, I’d have been safe. I dragged myself up and went to Ivi’s dressing table. Ugly, in the ordinary mirror. Ogreish? Maybe.
I looked into Skulni, and my face became beautiful. No trace of ogre in that face. How I’d love to be beautiful when Ijori and the rest returned! I’d laugh at their shock. I’d laugh and laugh.
The image faded. I pulled open the dressing table drawer. I’d looked in it a thousand times, and I found no potion now either. I stared down at the tabletop, at the cosmetics and the mirror and the golden flute. Why would a woman who had no music in her keep a flute on her dressing table?
I knew why.
I unscrewed the flute’s mouthpiece. Two small vials slid into my shaking hand. One was made of green clay, the other brown. Neither was much bigger than my thumb. Each bore a label. The green vial’s label read “Beauty.” The other label read “Disguises.”
I uncorked the green vial and raised it to my lips.
How much should I drink? I lowered the vial, aware of my marble toe.
I wondered when the others would return.
The tumbler Sir Uellu had brought me was on the floor by the bed, still half filled with water. I carried the vial to it and tipped in four drops. The potion was clear, but the water turned cloudy. I returned to the dressing table and emptied the draft down my throat. It was mildly salty, nothing worse.
I watched myself in the ordinary mirror, not in the hand mirror. I wanted an honest reflection.
Nothing changed. Perhaps it had no magic for humans with ogre blood.
A blaze ripped through me,
from my scalp to my toes. My eyes watered and burned. I ran to the washstand and threw the water left in the pitcher on myself. The fire roared on. I saw my hand holding the pitcher. The skin was red and coarse, the texture and color of a tongue.
The fire passed. But then my bones, my muscles, my bowels, my heart, were squeezed and twisted, wrung, as if by a giant washerwoman. I felt myself fall. Then I felt nothing.
I awoke on the floor, free of pain. I saw a section of rug, my sleeve, my wrist, and my hand. I moved a finger to prove it was my hand. It didn’t look like my hand. It was too pretty.
The finger moved.
I flew to the mirror. There I was—my beautified face—in the ordinary mirror. And not merely my face—my neck was graceful, and my shoulders were narrower. I was commanding, but no longer oppressive.
The midnight-blue gown had become too big, and it was wet around the shoulders where I’d tried to douse myself. I was glorious in the gown nonetheless. I would be glorious in a potato sack.
I smiled at my image. Oh, such a smile! A wounded bird’s spirits would lift at that smile.
I sang softly,
“Some love the rain
Not I.
I love the cloudless sky.”
I had become the cloudless sky. I wondered if my marble toe had become flesh again. I concentrated. No, it was still marble.
Perhaps I could win Ijori back. He couldn’t hate me when I looked like this. He’d listen to me now.
But I hated him.
“You are fairest now, fairer than …”
I spun around, but no one was there. I spun back and looked down and saw a face in the hand mirror. The creature in the mirror. Skulni!
He had a man’s face, a sharp face—small features and small ears and a nose that came to a point. He was smiling at me, his eyes slits of merry spite.
“Fairer than Queen Ivi. You are the fairest one of all.”
His voice was flat, with no music. It was sugary and insinuating, the voice of a spider inviting a fly in for ostumo.
“Finish the potion, Lady Aza, or your beauty will be fleeting.”
I touched my ivory cheek. I didn’t want to revert.
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