"Oh. That truth." Merrigan turned away, unsure of her expression, and hid it by splashing water on her face and then rubbing hard with the towel.
"If her green tears don't convince Warden," Bib said, "then hearing me speak might do the trick. Or the fact that you know about Rolf and his brothers. Warden thinks he's the only one who can see them or talk to them, because he holds the tinderbox."
"If he would be king someday, then he needs some basic lessons in magic, so he doesn't trip over more curses and spells and enchanters in the future." She shuddered as she slipped out of her dress and hung it on the peg, and climbed into her bed in her undersmock. "The more magic used on a kingdom and on a royal family, the greater the chances even more magic will happen there, and to them, and attract enchanters and adventurers, which will guarantee more spells and curses and ..." She sighed and punched her pillow for emphasis. "There should be a school to teach heroes, so they don't make foolish mistakes."
"That would be fun," Elli said. "You could be headmaster, Bib. You know everything worth knowing."
"Ah, no, thank you for the lovely compliment," Bib said, his pages rustling with laughter, "but I am many thousands of books away from knowing everything. Someday, though ... I might learn enough, access enough books, hear enough stories ... What a nice dream."
Merrigan wished they would be quiet, so she could chase some dreams of her own. As if they heard her, both her companions were silent after that, and she soon fell asleep, to dream battle plans for the next several days.
Chapter Nine
Merrigan woke when the rising sun touched her face. For several seconds she lay there, eyes closed, stretching luxuriously. Then she realized how far into the morning it had to be, for the sun to cross the room. Why hadn't Bib awakened her when the sunrise touched him on the table? She sat up fast enough, with enough force, to nearly throw herself out of bed.
Bib was gone. So was Elli. That frightened her a little more than Bib not waking her. He should have known they needed to get an early start, to make sure Warden, the soldier didn't leave the inn before they had a chance to talk to him.
Merrigan shuddered as she scrambled out of bed and hurried to wash her face and braid her hair and get dressed. She contemplated all the things Elli and Bib could be doing right now. Had they conspired while she was away, planning how the mermaid would steal the magical book at the first chance and go off to seek their fortunes? Just what did that idiotic girl, who didn't know a lying, cheating prince when he sweet-talked her, think she could do with a book, of all things, in the sea? How could they have treated her like this, robbing her, foiling all her plans, all the hard work she had put in, after all the things she had done for both of them? What right did they have to go haring off on their own?
How could they leave her alone? Weren't they her friends?
Merrigan slid to the floor, shivering, feeling empty and sick to her stomach.
She was alone. Why did they leave her alone?
Was this part of Clara's curse, that once she finally found someone she actually liked to be with, they left her alone, to start all over again?
"Mistress Mara?" The knock on the door startled Merrigan. For a few heartbeats, she stared at the door, wondering why it was so blurry, and wondering who Mara was.
Then she remembered the false name she used, because she refused to let anyone other than Bib know that Queen Merrigan of Carlion had been reduced to such awful circumstances. She blinked, and hot wet trickled down her cheeks.
What was she doing, sitting there on the floor and crying? Tears never solved anything.
"Yes?" She flinched at the creaky sound of her voice, and struggled up off the floor. Until this moment, she certainly hadn't felt like an old woman. Now, she ached all over. Another part of Clara's curse? Was the seer sitting by one of her visionary pools, laughing at the story being played out for her entertainment?
"Would you like your breakfast here in your room?" Rosa asked. "Elli said you were up very late last night, making plans for setting up your dressmaker's shop, so she said we shouldn't disturb you for a while. Should I leave you to sleep a little longer?"
"Oh, no, thank you." Merrigan staggered over to the washbasin to splash cold water into her eyes. Fortunately, they weren't as red and swollen as she feared. "Where is Elli?"
"Oh, she's in the front room, chattering away and showing off the clothes you designed. You're going to have to hire a dozen girls to help you, with all the orders you'll have by the end of the day, mark my word." Rosa chuckled. "You're lucky to have an apprentice like her."
"Yes, I am. Lucky," she said, tugging the door open. For a moment, Merrigan had the oddest urge to hug the apple-cheeked, smiling girl. "Well, I had better get down there and see to business."
Elli and Bib, she realized with one glance, had taken matters into their hands and some of the work out of hers. A tall, weathered man, with a few distinguished silver streaks in his ebony curls and a rather rakish scar across his left cheek, sat in the corner by the fireplace. He listened to Elli talk with all the girls who had come to look over Merrigan's designs. He held Bib on his lap, and from time to time, his lips moved slightly, as if having a conversation. Merrigan didn't doubt that Bib had started in on those king-making lessons that Rolf had suggested.
Dear Bib. How could she ever have doubted him, suspected him of treachery and abandonment, for one moment? He was devoted to her. Merrigan stumbled momentarily, crossing the threshold into the room, when she realized she hoped more than gratitude for repairing him made Bib devoted to her.
Rosa brought her a hearty breakfast and Miles appointed himself errand boy, bringing paper and inkwells and quill pens, so Merrigan could write down the names of the girls and what sort of dresses they were looking for, and then to make sketches of possible designs. She wasn't so busy she didn't see the glances Miles and Elli exchanged. She hoped no one noticed the slightly greenish cast under the mermaid's pretty blushes.
That night, Rolf's brother, Dolf, woke her up after she had only two hours of sleep, to ride to the palace.
This time she had a clever, discrete little magical light conjured by a spell hidden in Bib's pages. It hung over her right shoulder and dimmed whenever anyone came near the door of the room Merrigan happened to be searching. She could conduct a much more thorough search, with the help of the light. She retraced her steps of the previous search, just to be certain.
THE NEXT DAY, TWO LADIES of the court came to consult with Mistress Mara and her apprentice. They were pleased by the designs of the sample dresses Merrigan had made, and asked if they could take them back to the palace for the higher ranked ladies to examine. Of course, Merrigan agreed.
That night, Ualf, the oldest and biggest of the dog brothers, with spinning eyes bigger than serving platters, took Merrigan to the palace. She searched the throne room and the next room off the receiving room, going counterclockwise. Still no success.
In the days that followed, Warden took king-making lessons from Bib and Merrigan hired four of Rosa's friends to do the basic sewing on the ordered dresses. Her nighttime searches of the palace moved to where her father said the work of running the kingdom took place. Of course, in the palace in Avylyn the rooms for the secretaries and ministers did fill an entire wing, two stories tall. Here in Seafoam there were three rooms for the secretaries and clerks and records, and another room as large as all three together where the king met with his ministers every morning. Merrigan took an entire night just to search that room, although common sense told her the king would hide a jewel-encrusted knife or an enchanted handkerchief in some place a little less public.
On the tenth day since arriving in Seafoam, Merrigan and Elli and the hired girls were hard at work in the back room of the inn, which Rosa had convinced her father to let them use as a workshop without charging them any rent. Merrigan had advised the girl that while she appreciated the generosity, such a gift couldn't be good for the inn's business. Rosa had laughed and told her that whe
never a woman came to the inn for a fitting or to order a dress, her husband or son accompanied her. They couldn't sit in the main room of the inn without ordering at least a mug of cider or a pastry, could they?
That morning, Merrigan was ruminating over the arrangement, trying to wrap her mind around why Rosa would admit that the inn was not only benefiting from her dressmaking work, but they had enough profits to share. She didn't think the innkeeper girl foolish at all, but rather clever and forward-thinking. Quincy had as much as said that Rosa would inherit the inn when her father was ready to retire because she was so much better at running the business than her brothers. They would all be smarter to go to sea full-time, instead of dividing their time and strength between the inn and fishing. If Rosa was so talented at business, why share her profits? Merrigan concluded that such a decision was just who Rosa was, part of why she was so good at her business, and why the inn was so popular. It was an odd way of handling life and business, but if it worked ... Merrigan wished it could work for her.
She paused, her hand trembling for just a moment, at the oddness of the thought and the wistful feeling that made her eyes ache and feel warm and wet.
"Mistress Mara?" Rosa scurried into the room, weaving between the three long tables set up for the girls to do their sewing.
"Is something wrong?" Merrigan put down the needle she had been holding and staring at without really seeing it for the last ten minutes or so.
"Oh, no, nothing wrong at all. Queen Adele has sent a carriage. She wishes to know if you would be kind enough to come for luncheon and to discuss sewing for the royal family." Rosa smiled broadly. "When you have time. She specifically said you weren't to hurry, and if it was inconvenient, she can send the driver and coach another day."
Merrigan bit back a bubble of laughter and the remark that this just proved what a silly woman the queen was. Her second reaction was an astonishing wave of gratitude for such courtesy.
"Not inconvenient at all," she said instead, and stood slowly. "The queen is so kind and considerate, it would be rude to make her wait. Elli, I think you should change into—"
"Oh, no, I can't." The mermaid went so pale, the gill lines in her neck stood out like ink drawings. "Please, can't you deal with them by yourself?"
Merrigan squashed down an urge to slap the girl and tell her to grow a backbone. How was she going to survive in the world, whether it was under the sea or on dry land, if she let such a little thing as standing before royalty frighten her? After a few heartbeats, she found it much easier to smile at the girl and assure her that it would be all right to stay behind. After all, Merrigan reasoned, feeling her good humor return, Elli was smart to fear royalty. If more people had a healthy fear of royalty, the world would be in much better shape.
She left Elli in the sewing room to oversee the hired girls, took the time to change into her dark blue dress and comb her hair. Then she gathered up the pad of bound paper Miles had obtained for her, inkwell and quills, and her measuring tape. She tapped on the door of Warden's room, where he was having king-making lessons with Bib. After ten days of devotion to grooming, deportment, and the new, military-style coat and trousers Merrigan had made for him, he did look the part. Bib was an excellent teacher.
"Would you like—do you need an escort, Highness?" Warden said, bowing to her after she told them where she was going.
For a moment, she was tempted. It would certainly raise her status in the eyes of the royals if she showed up with such a dashing escort. Then she shook her head, realizing what a disaster that could be. Right now, Dulcibella still believed her nighttime visits to the inn, to talk and play checkers and take nighttime walks along the shore with Warden, were all just dreams. Merrigan didn't doubt the girl was just flighty enough she would take one look at her suitor and faint. Not a good introduction to his future in-laws.
"No, thank you. The first time you go into the palace, it will be with an invitation addressed to you, to discuss the terms of marriage to the princess." She patted his arm. "Thank you, though. That was very gallant and well-spoken. You will make a fine king."
It took all Merrigan's self-restraint not to sit up tall and wave to the populace as she rode to the palace. Yes, people stopped and gestured at her. Several people who knew her face and name called out to her, and children ran after the carriage. Merrigan reminded herself she wasn't royalty on display. She was merely a seamstress being honored by a ride to the palace.
Someday, she promised herself, she would indeed ride through the streets of Windward on a grand, triumphal return to Seafoam. She would wave with dignity and a royal smile of blessing on these people. She would toss coins to the children, and the people who called out to her now as friends would grow pale with wonder and bow to her.
The king's chancellor, Morton, met Merrigan at the gates of the palace. He bowed to her, offered his arm to help her down from the carriage, and carried her bag for her. He asked her about her voyage and remarked on the great respect the throne had for Captain Quincy, as he guided her through the reception room and down the long passageway to the royal family's living quarters. He took her all the way into the dining room, where Queen Adele and Princess Dulcibella waited, announced her presence, handed the bag to a servant, and bowed to everyone as he left.
Merrigan had the oddest feeling that when he said he looked forward to speaking with her again, it had meaning beyond mere politeness.
Then she had no time to think about anything but designing dresses and discussing the fashions of larger kingdoms on both sides of the ocean. Queen Adele and her daughter were cut from the same cloth—or more accurately, pressed into the same spun sugar candy mold. Enormous green-blue eyes, high cheekbones, cascades of honey-colored curls. Fortunately, their broad hips ruined the picture of too-good-to-be-true, and they had a genteel sort of horsey laughter rather than the insipid little twitters Merrigan loathed from other princesses.
They weren't quite as flighty as Merrigan expected, and they asked intelligent questions about clothes and fashions and the cost of the new wardrobes. They showed some restraint, wondering if there was enough in the personal budget to cover all the new clothes they wanted. Merrigan was hard put to keep from pointing out that the "enormous pile of clothes" they ordered was a mere pittance, compared to the vast wardrobe she had owned, and changed regularly with the seasons. Two new public outfits each for Adele and Dulcibella, three for wearing at home in private, and three new sets of clothes for King Devon and Chancellor Morton. Plus underclothes and nightshirts, and perhaps when spring came, sturdier clothes for a planned voyage along the coast to confer with the neighboring kingdoms.
Merrigan was there for most of the afternoon. She examined the current wardrobes of the royal family, giving advice on alterations to make them more fashionable and last another year or two. Then she sketched designs for new clothes and examined cloth that all three weavers in Windward brought for consideration. Adele and Dulcibella made sure she wasn't overtaxed, that they weren't taking up too much of her time, and insisted she should say what she really thought and not hold back for fear of royal anger.
She was convinced the two of them couldn't come up with a temper tantrum to save their lives. That odd, wistful, hungry sort of feeling flittered through her several times during what really was a pleasant afternoon. What was it like, she wondered, to grow up in a place where she knew people really did like her because they liked her, and not because it was their duty? A place where she didn't have to constantly weigh everyone's words and expressions and try to guess their thoughts, the games they played, and what cruel things people said about her behind her back.
She felt a little regret when the afternoon came to an end. Chancellor Morton appeared in the doorway of the sitting room, to escort her back through the palace to the carriage. He rested his hand on hers, tucked into the crook of his elbow, and Merrigan didn't think anything of it, busy answering his questions about the decisions the women had made.
She didn't think a
nything of the oddness of a chancellor bothering his head about clothes or escorting a seamstress to the carriage, until Chancellor Morton climbed into the carriage with her. Even stranger, he sat down next to her, instead of facing her. The driver flicked his whip and the carriage jolted forward, and turned left out of the palace gates instead of turning right.
"We need to have a discussion, Mistress Mara," Morton said. "The view from the cliffs is lovely at this time of the year. Some people don't like the wind, but I find it bracing. You will enjoy it with me, won't you?"
"The sound of the wind will ensure a private conversation, won't it?" Merrigan fluttered her eyelashes, and he laughed. Not an evil sound, but strangely comforting.
Here was the man who truly ran the kingdom, she decided. He made it possible for King Devon to be so effective and well-liked.
"I would very much like to know where you found that lovely little light spell that you use," Morton said, once the carriage reached the long road that ran alongside the seaside cliffs.
Sitting next to her, he didn't have to raise his voice, despite the whining of the wind around them. Merrigan reminded herself she was an old woman and her gray hair wouldn't look any worse for being battered by the wind. She loosened the strings of her hood rather than fighting to keep it on her head the whole time.
"Ah ... so you're the one who has made the light flicker, I presume?"
"Only until I added a ring of silence and stealth to the invisibility cloak. What are you looking for, and what does it have to do with that soldier and his magical dogs who kidnap the princess every night?" His smile widened and he paused a moment to rake his tangled white hair off his forehead. "A man who can teach Dulcibella to play checkers as well as she does now, well ... I have high hopes he can counteract the stupidity spell. King Devon has done an amazing job of it, but the poor man is growing old and weary. It's time for him to retire."
The Kindness Curse Page 16