"Thank you, Mi'Lady. In what way, exactly?"
"I'll take you with me to the office and insist the judge has to be fitted for his new clothes there, instead of his bedroom." A shudder worked a chill through her comfortable, sleepy warmth. "I certainly wouldn't want to go into his bedroom, even looking as I do now."
"Don't be too certain about that. Your hair seems more gray than white now. But yes, Mi'Lady. Brilliant idea."
Merrigan couldn't get her eyes open, couldn't seem to drag herself awake enough to think about what he said. Something about her hair? Then a moment later, she forgot what it was as sleep claimed her in a long, luxurious, comfortable slide down into dreams.
JUDGE BRIMBLE WAS DELIGHTED, effusively so, when Merrigan knocked on his office door midway between breakfast and luncheon, and announced she was ready for the first fitting. Bib suggested she not only ask the seneschal to help her bring the clothes to the judge's office, but be present during the fitting. The seneschal didn't just act as the head of the household, directing the servants and paying bills. He also served as the judge's body servant, attending to his clothes, bringing him wash water, shaving him, and other assorted tasks that two or three other servants would normally have attended to. The judge was not as wealthy as he appeared to be. Or perhaps it was simply difficult to get enough servants willing to work for him.
Merrigan delegated the seneschal the task of helping the judge in and out of his nearly finished clothes, behind an enormous modesty screen. She was so grateful for that screen, she didn't wonder about the incongruity of it being in his office until after she went back upstairs.
The freedom to stick Judge Brimble with pins at regular intervals during the fitting helped her find some enjoyment in the otherwise humiliating exercise.
"Well?" she muttered, as she carried Bib back upstairs more than three hours later, sandwiched between the trousers and the shirts, while the seneschal carried the robes and vests.
Oh, Mi'Lady, in the parlance of the street thugs—who, I might add, come here regularly to take odd jobs for the judge—he will never know what hit him. Bib rustled his pages, and the soft, dusty laughter sounded thicker and somewhat congested. Merrigan hoped that was a sign of just how many pieces of paper with necessary proof he had managed to confiscate while she was busy pinning and adjusting and stabbing Judge Brimble.
"It might just be fun seeing his schemes fall apart and all his cheating come back around to choke him," she said with a sigh, once the library door was closed behind her and she was alone with Bib again. "Still, I doubt it would be very safe to remain once the feathers start to fly. What other magical powers do you possess, besides the ability to rifle through someone's desk drawers and ledger books and remove papers without anyone seeing?"
She chuckled and sat in her sewing chair, and lightly stroked his cover. If she wasn't mistaken, the leather seemed several years newer than it had been last night. It was now a lovely shade of blue with streaks of green, like a semi-precious stone.
"Books contain unlimited wisdom," he said, "for those who know how to use it properly, and who are willing to take the time to study and learn."
"And ask the right questions? Bib, if I ask you here and now to point out to me anything I need to know but don't think to ask, will that cover any lapses?"
"If only the judge's greedy bully of an uncle had thought of that." He chuckled hard enough to flip himself open. A dozen sheets of paper in cramped handwriting slid out onto the table. "Mi'Lady, you and I have passed to a much higher level of friendship and partnership. I shall always try to offer information that hadn't occurred to you, and point out areas where you might be blind or mistaken."
"Good. I must admit, when I was a child, I had a rather nasty temper. I wouldn't like to be so provoked that I threw you off a bridge or tried to rip out your pages in a thoughtless moment." She patted the open page. "That's not a threat. Please don't take that as a threat."
"None taken, Mi'Lady." His pages rippled, and more papers slid out on either side of where he lay open.
Soon a sizable stack had piled up to the right and left of Bib. Merrigan could only shake her head. The papers piled up higher than his usual thickness, and yet he hadn't looked any larger or felt any heavier when she carried him back to the library.
"That's useful magic." She chuckled. "I don't suppose you were used by a pickpocket at any time in your past?"
That earned laughter from Bib, and he regaled her with some silly stories of his first master. In their early days together, they had traveled the world, and the adventurous young man had secreted items within his pages. Some were done to inflict justice on people who cheated others, such as Swickle. Others were somewhat selfish, such as stealing a meat pie or a piece of bread or cheese from a shopkeeper who looked at the young man's travel-worn clothes, assumed he was a beggar, and refused to let him enter the shop to buy.
He finished two stories before Flora came up with the tray of Merrigan's noon meal. Merrigan bit her tongue against complaining that it was an hour late. She knew she had made the judge late for his meal, and as this was his household, he had to be served first. He probably demanded twice as much to eat, since he had had to wait. She was further silenced by the realization that admitting her fault didn't sting quite as much as the last time. She didn't feel the need to complain that if people knew who she really was, they would treat her better.
How odd.
"Well, now we have the evidence. What do we do with it?" she mused, after demolishing her meal. Cook's fare was always delicious, but today he had outdone himself. "There is no higher authority in Smilpotz than the judge, and we certainly can't present the evidence to him."
"We go to the next highest authority, the Overseer of Judges, in Carnpotz."
"And just how do we convince him of the truth of our story?" She nudged the dirty dishes out of her way so she could slouch properly, elbow on the table, chin on her fists.
"Well ... I suppose we can ..." Bib sighed. "I must confess, I've been so enthralled with the idea of getting out of here and seeing the world with you, I quite didn't think that far down the road. So to speak."
"I don't suppose you know the kind of man the Overseer of Judges is," she mused aloud. "Is he the kind to be astonished or afraid or even think he's losing his mind if some magic happens right in his lap, instead of in the next town or country?"
"What are you thinking, Mi'Lady?"
"Who would argue with a magic book?"
"Only fools, Mi'Lady."
"Bib." She smiled and sat back. "Playing obsequious does not suit you."
"Yes, Mi'Lady." He chuckled, his pages rippling hard enough to flip himself closed again. "I see where you are going with this. If we walk into the Overseer's office and I disgorge all the papers in front of him, he can't very well argue against the evidence that I am magic. That ought to convince him of the truth of our story."
"If only we could find the miller's—Corby." She nodded, pleased that she had remembered his name. "If only we could find Corby and have him back up our story."
"We could take the baker with us, as he seems the next target of the nefarious schemes."
"No, we won't take him—we'll ask to ride with him." She glanced down the length of the table. On one side were all the papers, all the signed documents, the town records that Brimble and Swickle had rewritten, alongside the originals. On the other side of the table were the clothes that needed to be finished before she could leave the judge's household. "We have one more day to make our plans."
Chapter Six
That evening, Merrigan looked up at the sound of the library door creaking open to see Cook with her supper tray, instead of Flora or Fauna. He paused in the open doorway and looked around the room. For just a flicker of time, he wasn't the iron-gray, stooped man with the weathered face and a stained leather eye patch. He was taller, younger, straighter, with two eyes that shone like emeralds, and flickers of purple magic spun around his outstretched hands, cradling
a bowl full of rose-colored smoke. Then he was simply Cook again. He limped a little as he walked down the length of the table. His gaze raked over the books on their shelves with regret, rather than the awe Flora and Fauna displayed when they looked at them.
"You'll need this," he muttered, his tone soft and earthy, almost gritty, as if it came from deep underground. He put down the tray and shrugged one shoulder, letting a thick strap slide down, attached to a sturdy, thick shoulder bag, such as foot travelers or apprentices used to carry their masters' equipment.
His hand brushed over Bib as he set the bag down next to him, and Merrigan shuddered, fully expecting him to snatch up the book and walk out.
"Thank you," she said, her voice softer and weaker than she liked.
"I'm not him." Cook winked at her, which was odd, since she had always thought it difficult to wink with only one eye.
"Not who?"
He gestured around the library, then spread both arms, taking in the household. She understood. He meant the enchanter who resided here when this had been a castle.
"What happened?" She reached as if to catch hold of his sleeve, then thought better of it. "Who are you, if you aren't him? You know about ..." She rested her fingertips on the edge of Bib's cover.
Cook smiled, and again she had a glimpse of the young man he had been, strong and ruggedly handsome and full of power.
"I am usually blocked from coming in here, until I have learned my lesson thoroughly and permanently."
"Usually?" she prompted.
"Some of us take longer to learn our lessons than others. I suppose the higher the heights of the fall, the longer the climb upwards again. The wise learn from the mistakes and foolishness of others, Highness."
She shuddered. Hearing this man acknowledge her rank, her position, was entirely different from hearing Bib say it. Merrigan wondered why it frightened her.
"Learning is more than gathering facts and knowledge. Learning leads to wisdom, but we stopped at knowledge, like a dragon hoarding gold and jewels, only to sleep on them."
"Where is ..." She gestured as he had done, indicating the former castle.
"It doesn't matter, except that we each must learn a bitter lesson. I am pleased to note that I have ... paid, learned enough, to see a little of the spells swaddling you like a baby. Yes, that is an apt metaphor. You must be reborn, remade."
"How long have you been suffering?" she whispered.
"I don't really know. Time passes strangely, for those under enchantment."
"That is so unfair."
"There is no law that says magic that teaches a necessary lesson must be fair. At least," he added with a smirk that made his remaining eye brilliant green for a few seconds, "not fair while the spell is in force. When the change is complete, well ... let the enspelled judge."
"I don't want—" She squeaked as he pressed a gnarled, calloused finger against her lips, silencing her.
"It is useless to complain, and no one to appeal to for a change in judgment. I had to wait more than a century before I learned that. Learn from me, Highness. Don't waste your energy complaining or fighting. Focus on learning and becoming better than you were."
"Why are you telling me this?" Merrigan muffled the urge to shriek in a most un-royal manner.
"Learning requires passing on knowledge, especially lessons learned through pain. I would not wish my lessons on anyone. Not even the enchanters who were once my enemies." He executed a graceful bow, so utterly incongruous with his crooked form. He turned and went to the door. "I daresay we shall not see each other before you leave, which I recommend you do quickly. Your hair is darkening. Leave before someone notices the change and suspects you of magical doings. It could be uncomfortable."
Then he stepped through the door and out of sight. Merrigan couldn't even hear his footsteps moving down the hall. Then again, she hadn't heard him approaching the library.
"Well," she said, letting out a deep breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.
"Indeed," Bib said.
ROSCO SHOWED UP TO take away the dinner tray and announced that he had been told to take a message for her to the baker. Before she could ask, "What message?" Bib's pages riffled and a piece of paper slid across the table toward her. She gave Rosco the note and thanked him.
"So, be prepared to flee for our lives tomorrow?" she said, when the door had closed again.
"Once we give the documents to the Overseer, we don't dare come back."
MERRIGAN REFLECTED there were some benefits in having very little to call her own. She could leave the house with her two bags hidden under her cloak, and no one to suspect she had no plans to return. She put the finished clothes on the table, neatly folded, ready for pressing, and wished for a moment that she had left some undone details on each piece. She never had remembered the spell for the collars, but yes, this judgment falling on the judge was far better than choking him for moons to come.
"I don't suppose you can arrange for the seams to start unraveling once we're far away and safe?" she murmured as she looked around the library one last time. Bib just riffled his quiet, papery laughter.
In the kitchen, she asked Flora and Fauna to take care of pressing the clothes, then announced she was going to do some shopping in town before she returned to finish the last bit of hemming work. Cook nodded to her, but didn't turn away from the soup he was stirring. When she climbed into the wagon with Rosco and Oscar, she had to fight not to take one final look and wave a cheerful goodbye to this rather sad, if grand household.
The baker looked thinner, when Merrigan walked into his shop. He finished sliding a tray of buns into the tall rack standing next to the counter, and his welcoming smile struck her as somewhat pitiful. She remembered overhearing him talking to Judge Brimble about his bakery suffering because of the nasty rumors. And then how the judge and Swickle laughed together over those same rumors and the baker's reaction.
This man had been kind to her, without knowing she was a queen. Didn't that deserve some reward?
"Why did you want to ride with me to Carnpotz?" the baker asked as he led her to the small, rather flour-dusty wagon behind the bakery. "How did you know I was going today?"
"I overheard you telling Judge Brimble. I was working in the room over his office."
"Ah." He offered her his hand to help her climb up, and tugged a pad over onto the seat before she sat down.
"I want you to know," she said, once they had put two streets between them and the bakery, "I think all those lies people are telling about your shop are awful. Your bread is the most delicious I have ever eaten."
"Thank you." He patted her hand. "You didn't say why you need to go to Carnpotz."
"Actually, I'm fleeing the judge. The things I overheard discussed in his office make me fearful for my life."
"What sort of things?" He frowned, but Merrigan suspected he wasn't quite as surprised as he should have been.
"He helped Swickle cheat that good boy, Corby, out of his inheritance, for one thing."
"Hmm, I don't find that hard to believe at all. Why would that frighten you?"
"I'm an old woman alone, a stranger in these parts. We all know from the fables that cheating and lying and injustice eventually ..." She sighed. "They gain enough weight that eventually some magic intervenes. I don't want to be blamed when that justice strikes. Judge Brimble is not so foolish it wouldn't eventually occur to him that someone sitting above his office could hear all his schemes."
"Hmm. Wise."
They rode in silence for another hour, until she saw the sign indicating Carnpotz was over the next hill.
"You should know," she said, touching his arm, "that I overheard Swickle and the judge plotting to take over your bakery. They're the ones spreading the nasty stories about your bread."
"I am not surprised," the baker murmured. He pressed his hand over hers on his arm. "Yesterday, he claimed he wanted to become partners, that he would provide the flour and ensure the quality was of
the best. He offered me a contract to sign, and then was most upset when he learned I could read."
"He was counting on your not knowing what was in the contract," she guessed.
"Took it away before I could read anything, and said he would bring it back for me to sign in a few days, after I had time to think about his generous offer." He nodded twice. "I guess I'd be signing away my livelihood. Thank you for warning me."
"Would you do something for me?" she said, after the wagon had climbed to the top of the hill and the much larger town of Carnpotz spread out before them.
"Gladly."
"I have been helping the serving girls, Flora and Fauna, practice their reading. If the Overseer believes me and acts against the judge, will you make sure they find good positions elsewhere, and continue their studies?"
"Again." He patted her hand. "Gladly."
Merrigan couldn't understand why she felt like crying. At the same time, a curiously light sensation settled in her chest. What was wrong with her?
She was out of that gloomy, stifling household, back out in fresh air and sunshine. She had a friend to advise her and help her, someone who understood her. Why shouldn't she be in a better mood than she had been since long before Leffisand died and she lost her throne?
"IT'S THE CURSE," BIB whispered, once he and Merrigan were alone in the room where the Overseer's secretary had led them.
"What do you mean?" She nearly leaped up from the wooden bench with the dark blue cushion that was very welcome after the long, bumpy ride into Carnpotz. "Are we going to be imprisoned? They can't force you to disgorge the papers, can they?"
"Oh, forgive me, Mi'Lady. Not that kind of—well, let me start over. I didn't mean to frighten you. Didn't it seem a little too easy to gain an audience with the Overseer? You're not even a resident of this kingdom. Anyone can tell that by your accent. So why should a penniless, frail widow be allowed to see the Overseer, who is obviously very busy?"
The Kindness Curse Page 10