The Princess Imposter

by Vivian Vande Velde

  “Scratch in the dirt.”

  “Scratch an itch on your back.”

  “Splint for an injured bird’s wing.”

  “Anything you can use a short stick for.”

  Such a small thing to be the source of so much trouble.

  Seeing her studying the tooth, Benlos told Gabriella, “You can keep it if you want.”

  Miss-mot made another grab for it, this time more successfully. Gabriella used one hand to tickle, the other to open the child’s syrup-sticky fingers. She set the tooth beyond Miss-mot’s reach in a basket-shaped dish somewhere between a saucer and a bowl that must be for discarded strawberry tops. What use, she wondered, could a human princess find for a dragon’s tooth?

  Parf reached around Daisy to get at the syrup. Not counting Miss-mot, who could be excused because of her age, the other children were mostly remembering to ask for things to be passed. “Mumsy’s is better,” he mumbled around a mouthful of porridge. He probably meant it as a complaint against the food his father had magicked rather than as a compliment for Mumsy, but Mumsy smiled and said, “Thank you, dear.”

  Parf stopped talking and concentrated on looking disagreeable.

  With a nod to his eldest son, Benlos asked, “Will the two of you accompany me again?”

  Parf snorted.

  Gabriella asked, “Will the Council know to bring us, too?”

  “We must hold hands,” Benlos explained.

  “I ain’t holding hands with nobody,” Parf said from across the table.

  But he was the only one who seemed unwilling to accompany Benlos. “Me, too! Me, too!” the rest of the children clamored, getting out of their chairs and surrounding their father, several clutching at his clothing with sticky hands.

  “Oh,” Benlos said, “I wish I could bring you, my lovelies. But children as precious as you are not allowed in the Council room, for then the councillors could not concentrate and they would all be going … ” Benlos scratched the top of his head, all the while making a very vacant expression, and his speech became a simpleton’s drawl. “ ‘What new senseless rule was that we were going to enact? These children are too precious, and now I can’t remember.’ And then where would we be without that new senseless rule?”

  The children all laughed and cheered.

  “Sit down, children,” Mumsy said, “and finish eating. And let your father finish eating.”

  “Too late.” Benlos suddenly handed Miss-mot over to the child on his right. Gabriella could see that the fairy father was growing wispy and a bit see-through. He put his hand over Gabriella’s on the tabletop. “And here we go … ,” he said. “Parf?”

  Parf sat back with his arms folded across his chest.

  But at the last moment and with a sigh of exasperation, Parf slammed his open palm over their clasped hands.

  Gabriella tightened her free hand around the tiny bowl that held the dragon’s tooth. It wasn’t that she had a good plan … but a thought that might eventually grow into a plan was beginning to flit about her mind.

  There was a slight tingliness, and she guessed she herself was becoming wispy and see-through …

  Then they were once more standing before the Council.

  “You are late,” Irate Fairy Woman informed Benlos irately.

  “I do apologize.” Benlos let go of his grip on Gabriella and Parf so that he could place his hand directly over his heart.

  “Be that as it may,” she muttered, no doubt guessing she’d get no better an answer from him, but unable to let him have the last word.

  Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman looked … well, she still looked moderately annoyed. But Close to Napping Fairy Man seemed a bit better rested and more alert this morning. Gabriella supposed that meant she had to switch to thinking of him as Council Fairy Man.

  Ardforgel … Ardforgel looked as though he, too, had spent a sleepless night.

  Good, Gabriella thought. That’s what a guilty conscience will do to you.

  Parf leaned his head close to Gabriella’s as he got one of the extra chairs into place at the table. Whispering, he asked her, with a glance toward his father, “Know why he wanted us here?”

  She shook her head.

  “So we can break the news to Mumsy and them, once Council decrees he’s not coming back.”

  “That’s—you don’t know that’s going to happen.”

  He shrugged and would have left her to fetch her own chair, but his father stepped in and pulled one to the table for her.

  Irate Fairy Woman folded her hands before her. She spoke in a calm and not unkind tone. “The Council has looked into Councillor Ardforgel’s finances; in this, Councillor Ardforgel has been cooperative.”

  Gabriella glanced at Ardforgel’s drawn face and thought, Maybe cooperative, but surely not happy.

  “We have also looked into woods-fairy Benlos’s finances.”

  “Such as they are,” Benlos said.

  “Such as they are,” Irate Fairy Woman agreed. “In addition, we have talked to friends and family members of both of you—”

  “Which?” Gabriella blurted out. And when no one told her to silence herself, she added, “Family members?” And, seeing that she still hadn’t been escorted from the room, she tacked on, “Since no one came and spoke to us?”

  Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman said, “Obviously immediate family members, those most close of relations, would not have been summoned lest they be asked to present testimony that might be against their own interests.”

  “You were hearing testimony without our being present?” Gabriella asked. “That’s … that’s … ”

  “Perfectly acceptable procedure in Fairy Council proceedings,” said Council Fairy Man. “Especially given that there were no surprises. And keep in mind that the stipulation against close relatives appearing prevented Sylvimit from speaking on Ardforgel’s behalf as thoroughly as it prevented Luna from speaking for Benlos.”

  Gabriella nodded grudgingly. “Does Benlos get to know which friends and relatives were questioned?”

  “No,” said Irate Fairy Woman. “As I was saying, we have talked to friends and family members, speaking to them about the two of you, both in general terms and specific. And,” she hastened to add, as though reading Gabriella’s mind, “by specific, I mean that we spoke to some who were in attendance on the green while Benlos wove his fanciful story of magic cauldrons that could duplicate dragons’ teeth.”

  Finally Benlos interrupted. “I never mentioned dragons’ teeth during my story.”

  “A fact we already ascertained. Despite what your changeling might think, Benlos, we have not set our minds against you. You do, amazingly, have many friends.”

  Council Fairy Man said, “They lined up last night to speak on your behalf.”

  Benlos smiled.

  Parf sat just the tiniest bit straighter, looking at his father with new appreciation.

  “Right through the time for the evening meal,” Council Fairy Man said. “Your friends on this side … ” By the way he glanced at Ardforgel and fiddled with his lips and never finished that thought, Gabriella wondered whether Ardforgel had any friends to speak for him.

  But of course he did. Pretending he didn’t was just wishful thinking. A man with wealth—be that gold or dragons’ teeth—always has friends.

  Still, the way Council Fairy Man had spoken hinted that he recognized the difference.

  “And yet,” Irate Fairy Woman said, cutting through the hopeful feelings, “be all of that as it may, in the end this still comes down to the word of one fairy against another.”

  Gabriella jumped to her feet. “May I have the Council’s indulgence?”

  “We have been nothing but indulgent,” Irate Fairy Woman snapped.

  “Yes,” Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman answered Gabriella, “you may. In this one last instance.”

  Ardforgel sighed. Loudly.

  Gabriella wished she’d had more time to work things out in her mind.

  “Drago
ns’ teeth,” she said, “have a place in human tradition, too. Not that we can use them to create magic. But we recognize they have a magical quality. Even those teeth that have been—apparently—drained of their ability to grant fairy magic.”

  “Go on,” Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman said. “You’re not doing a very good job of explaining.”

  Gabriella called to mind the bards who sometimes recited stories in the castle hall to help pass the long winter nights. She took a deep breath. “It is said,” she told her audience, feeling that It is said … was almost as good a beginning to a story as Once upon a time … , “it is said that dragons do not lie. Do you have that same saying?”

  In reality, as far as Gabriella knew, people did not normally converse with dragons, certainly not enough to have formed an opinion on their honesty. But in the pictures she had seen of dragons, they looked imposing and majestic—which she felt made them look trustworthy.

  “Dragons are treacherous creatures,” Irate Fairy Woman said—and that, Gabriella thought, was the end of that. Her plan, such as it was, had died before it could be born.

  “But,” Irate Fairy Woman continued, “they mislead by truths not spoken, by speaking in hints and generalities when that suits their purposes, or by citing a specific one-time reality that leads the listener to infer something that is false, all the while adhering to the truth in the strictest sense of the word.”

  “Dragons do not lie,” Gabriella reiterated, hoping no one could see how relieved she was. “People do. Fairies do. Dragons do not.”

  “Your point?” Ardforgel snarled.

  “It is said … ” Satisfaction washed over Gabriella to see how repeating that phrase made Ardforgel squirm. “That once, during a human hearing much like today’s, where one person said one thing and the other person said the opposite, the king who sat in judgment could not decide who was speaking the truth and who was lying.”

  “Let me guess,” Ardforgel said. “He decided to believe the more unlikely of the two.”

  “Councillor Ardforgel,” Irate Fairy Woman snapped, “if you keep interrupting, we’ll never get to the end of this testimony.”

  “The king,” Gabriella continued, “remembered that dragons do not lie. That dragons despise liars. So he sent for a dragon’s tooth, and one was brought to him. He told the first man to hold the tooth tightly in his hand and to repeat what he already had said to the court. The man did. And nothing happened.”

  “A thrilling story,” Ardforgel muttered, stifling a yawn. “Absolutely awe-inspiring.”

  “So then the king had the second man hold tight to the tooth and repeat what he had previously sworn to. The man started to speak, but suddenly yelped in surprise. And pain. ‘Continue,’ the king ordered. The man resumed speaking, but his face and his voice were tight with pain. Once more he stopped. He very clearly was trying to unclench his fist, but he could not. Then those in the court saw the man’s hand was turning a purplish black. The unnatural and painful-looking color continued to spread, following the veins up the man’s arm, till his arm was as dark and swollen as the hand. And then the man started to choke, and the onlookers could see the veins in his neck were beginning to throb and darken. And he coughed up blood and then fell over dead. All because the dragon’s tooth would not permit him to speak lies after taking an oath to speak the truth.”

  The fairies looked from one to the other.

  “Wow,” Benlos said. “I never heard that story.”

  Gabriella wanted to kick him. Of course he hadn’t heard that story before—she had just made it up. “Have you heard every human story?” she asked.

  “Well, no,” Benlos admitted.

  “So I suggest,” Gabriella hurried on, “that we have each of you—Ardforgel and Benlos—take a turn holding this dragon’s tooth.” She picked up the tiny dish that contained the tooth she had pried from Miss-mot’s hand. She gave the dish a little shake, causing the tooth to rattle against the sides. “And we’ll see if the tooth poisons one of you as a liar.”

  The two Fairy Councilwomen looked the most skeptical.

  Ardforgel, she was convinced, looked the most nervous.

  Benlos leaned forward and took the dragon’s tooth.

  Gabriella asked him to declare that what he was about to say was the full truth. He did, and then he repeated his version of the story, where the only tooth of Ardforgel’s he had was the one Ardforgel had freely given him.

  “Now Ardforgel’s turn,” Gabriella said.

  “This is ridiculous,” Ardforgel complained. “Such a story is pure fancifulness.”

  “Then no harm will come to you, just as no harm came to Benlos, and I will be proven a fool.” She motioned for Benlos to return the tooth to the little plate, then pushed it toward Ardforgel. “Take the tooth from the saucer,” she instructed, “hold it in your clenched hand and declare your intention to speak the truth. Then tell us once again your version of what happened between you and Benlos. You must hold the tooth itself,” Gabriella instructed, for it all came down to this, “tooth against skin.”

  “Yes, I got that,” Ardforgel snarled. The very picture of irritation, he snatched at the shallow bowl.

  Except instead of catching hold of the dish, his sudden movement sent it skittering across the table and clear off the edge.

  “No harm done,” he declared with admirable enthusiasm as he dove under the table to retrieve it. “I’ve got it.”

  Good thing: The Council members were too mindful of their dignity to bestir themselves. And both Parf and Benlos were looking at Gabriella with is-there-something-you’re-expecting-us-to-be-doing? expressions.

  She wasn’t sure yet.

  Ardforgel resurfaced quickly—with the empty bowl in one hand, and his other hand clenched into a fist.

  Ha! Gabriella thought while he resettled himself, pulling his shirt straight and making sure his hair was still perfectly spiky. Got you!

  “Your questions?” Ardforgel asked smugly, his aggravation apparently evaporated.

  He thought he was fooling her. Working hard to keep her face from giving away her excitement, Gabriella asked, “Do you promise to tell the truth?”

  “Yes,” he snapped.

  “Then begin now. And make sure you are scrupulously accurate. I should hate for the tooth to poison you because of a minor oversight.” She smiled, perhaps indulging in a bit of unprincessly gloating.

  Ardforgel repeated the story he had told the day before, of meeting Benlos and inviting him into his home, then of noticing—after Benlos left—that the door to the cabinet where he kept the extra dragons’ teeth was ajar, and the dragons’ teeth gone.

  “Fine,” Gabriella said, having to fight to keep her voice calm and even. “You’re all right? No tingling in your hand? No odd sensation of any sort?”

  Dig your own grave, she thought. As she’d hoped, he’d been too afraid to take the tooth. That was why he’d intentionally knocked the bowl to the floor—to rid it of the tooth. And now everyone would see.

  Ardforgel said, “No. Dumb twit of a human girl. I, for one, have been telling the truth all along.”

  “Well then,” she said, “open your hand. Show us the tooth.”

  They would see his hand was empty. And his fear of holding it while he spoke would show he was a liar.

  Ardforgel placed his hand over his heart as though stricken. “I can’t believe this,” he said, “that my word should be questioned. That you would think I had made this up.” He looked around at the Council, at each one of them in turn. “My heart aches—aches!—that you, my friends, should allow her to talk to me as though to a common criminal.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Parf said, “so cough up the tooth already.”

  For one moment Gabriella, looking at his self-satisfied countenance, wondered how he could continue to play at this when he was about to be found out.

  And then he held his hand out, uncurled his fingers, and showed everyone the tooth. The tooth. In his hand, after all. Despit
e Gabriella’s apparently-not-so-clever plan to have him reveal himself as a liar.

  Smirking, Ardforgel let the tooth drop with an audible clink! back into the bowl.

  “Well, that was certainly enlightening,” he drawled. “Fine human tradition there. Your system of justice is exemplary.” To the members of the Council he said, “Don’t forget: You said that was the last time you would humor her.”

  “Except I’m not finished,” Gabriella said. Even though she was. She just couldn’t bring herself to admit it. She looked at Benlos, hoping something would come to her …

  And something did.

  Benlos, she saw, was wiping his right hand with his left thumb.

  Gabriella asked him, “Did you feel anything while you held the tooth?”

  “No tingling,” he said.

  For a smart fairy, he was being unaccommodating.

  “What did you feel?” Gabriella insisted.

  “Nothing,” Benlos said. Even his wings drooped. “I’m sorry.”

  He was sorry? He was worried about disappointing her?

  Gabriella held her own hand out, then touched her palm with the fingers of her other hand.

  “Except,” Benlos said, catching on to what she was asking, “it was sticky.” He looked at the members of the Council. “My youngest daughter wanted to hold the tooth as we ate this morning. She got porridge and syrup on it.”

  “Ardforgel?” Gabriella asked.

  He hesitated only a moment. “Yes,” he agreed. “Sticky.”

  “Hold out your hands,” Gabriella told both fairies.

  Benlos showed his hands. His right palm was shiny with syrup.

  Ardforgel said, “I wiped my hand on my trousers.”

  “Benlos,” Gabriella said, “would you wipe your hand on your trousers?”

  Benlos did, then once again held his palm upright. Now it had pieces of lint stuck to it.

  Ardforgel said, “I … did a little cleansing spell.”

  “No, you didn’t,” said Moderately Annoyed Fairy Woman.

  Council Fairy Man said, “We would have felt that.”

  “It was just a tiny spell.” Ardforgel’s voice was getting strident.

  “Which,” Irate Fairy Woman said, emphasizing each word, “we would have felt.”