“I can picture her sickening one on just about anything,” said Lipperella. “Though sukere is indeed a special case. Say. Couldn't Lukus magic up some food?”
“Some day, years from now. He just now discovered his ability by accident when he did in Thunderhead.”
“Pretty stout accident.”
“He accidentally remembered one of his Grandfather Razzmorten's spells. He doesn't know any others.”
“In that case,” said Lipperella. “I'll go...to this end of the isthmus, did you say?...and retrieve your belongings.”
“But won't that be dangerous?” said Rose.
“Why? The clan's not searching for me. I come and go as I please. If anyone sees me, I can say that I'm searching for the four of you like everyone else.”
“But you're the Truth-bearer,” said Rose. “How can you tell them such a story?”
“Easily,” said Lipperella, throwing back her head for a laugh. “To protect innocent lives. Yours. Besides, I'm the only one who can see the falseness of my own tale. No one else can.”
“Oh,” said Rose.
“If you don't mind my changing the subject,” said Fuzz, “I've a question.”
“By all means,” said Lipperella, sneaking a fawning glance at Spark at the same time.
“Can you explain why the dragons are all set to kill us? Until now, only Ugleeuh wanted to capture us.”
Lipperella stared at the floor. “Ugleeuh still wants you alive, especially Rose and Lukus, but the clan wants to kill you.”
“But why?”
“Because Rose and Lukus are King Hebraun's get and the clan blames him for Razorback's death. You and Spark are aiding them, so they consider you to be equally vile.”
“Well it's not true!” cried Lukus. “My Father never had anything to do with any dragon's death.”
“Oh yes he did,” said Rose quietly, sobered by her sudden recollection. “I remember it. I'd forgotten, but now I remember it all.”
***
“You call yourself a mage?” hissed Spitemorta. “One wonders how you ever earned your robes, Journeyman Simon. These ridiculously simple castings you call magic are child's play. Instead of sorcerer's fire you give me mage lights. You offer love potions but no death draughts, glamories but no transformations, distraction spells instead of invisibility. And no traveling spells of any sort. You can't even scry reliably. In short, you are a simpleton and worse than useless, Simon.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. As you say,” stammered the lank young mage as he bowed and shrank from her. “I apologize for my lack, Your Majesty. Perhaps you'd be better served by another mage.”
Spitemorta curled her lip scornfully at the young magician before her, trying to control his trembling. This struck her as fun, but she hid it with hard eyes as she gave a nod. “Yes Journeyman Simon,” she said, uttering his title with disgust, “you're right. I do need to find a real mage. You're dismissed.” Relief flooded the young man's face as he turned aside for a hasty exit, struggling to keep his legs from buckling under him. “Of course, you are also dismissed from Goll.” she said in a sweet voice. “You'll leave the country this minute and be put to death the instant you return.” She raised the crook of her finger to stop her smile as she watched the poor fellow work his speechless mouth, a look of horror seizing his face.
“But Your Majesty!” he stammered. “My family have lived in Goll for generations. We've no records of ever having lived anywhere else. They'll not be able to leave with me. I'll be alone and cut off from all of them and all that has meaning for me forever. I beg Your Majesty's mercy! Please reconsider!”
“You truly wish to remain in Goll?” said Spitemorta, her dark eyes glinting like onyx.
“Oh yes, Your Majesty!” he cried, as hope swept across his face.
“As you wish,” she said with a resolute nod. “Guards!”
Two burley young soldiers stepped forth from the entrance of the throne room. “Take this so-called 'mage' to the dungeon and flog him,” she declared. “Cut off his head at sunrise, tomorrow, and impale it on a pike outside the tower. His body goes to his family so that they may bury it in their cemetery.” Simon's legs gave way as his face took on the pallor of a corpse, while the two guards mercilessly yanked and shackled his arms.
Spitemorta tingled with excitement as she watched him dragged from the room. Power! Power to be able to order someone's death as easily as ordering a meal was truly heady stuff. Now, if only she could find a teacher able to help her reach her full magical potential. Razzmorten was the most powerful sorcerer on the continent, but he was out. She'd long had the impression that he harbored the same sorts of stupid propriety as her late step-parents. He might even rue her very existence. “Unfair of the old coot, too,” she thought. “Was it my fault that I was born?” Suddenly she dropped her scepter with a clatter and stood up with a triumphant flourish. She would have the best. She would go to the Chokewoods and find her mother.
***
Hubba Hubba paced back and forth upon his perch while Razzmorten sat reading in his lumpy upholstered chair. He felt like a new bird since he had lost his fat to become a sleek satin-black crow. Crow indeed! That was his problem. Here he was, stuck as a crow instead of the exotic double yellow head parrot which he'd been before Ugleeuh hexed him.
A burst of frantic cheeping from the sparrows nesting in the corner interrupted his dark thoughts. “Oh great, Wiz! Here they come. More pests to make my life miserable.”
Razzmorten beamed and rose from his chair. He padded softly to the sparrows' nest and peeked in. “My, what a sturdy young fellow you have here, Cheep.” Cheep gave himself an anxious preen as he and his mate watched their first hatched chick struggling with a last shard of eggshell.
“How many more are there?” said Hubba Hubba, dreading the count.
“If each of your friends' eggs hatch,” said Razzmorten, “there'll be a total of five little voices added to the choir.”
“Five? I don't know about you Wiz, but I think it's starting to get pretty crowded around here.”
“Would you say the same if the eggs were parrot eggs?”
“Right. Like that's going to happen.”
“I beg your pardon, but I saw you and Pebbles in the garden yesterday evening. I'd say you two are getting on rather well these days.”
“Oh sure, as well as any two completely different species can.”
“Hubba Hubba, do you deliberately capsize whatever anyone tells you just so you can feel sorry for yourself, or what? How many times have I patiently explained to you that you only look like a crow?”
“Yea! yea! yea! But inside where it counts, I'm still this stunning parrot that Pebbles or any other female Amazon parrot would just die for. Right. Well let me ask you, pal: what good is that when all the other bird sees when she looks at me is a crow? Admittedly a handsome and debonair crow, but a crow just the same. You know Wiz, just once I'd like to look into a mirror and see this fabulous parrot you keep telling me about.”
Razzmorten gave a quick nod and made some odd signs in the air as he muttered something under his breath. Then he left the room. He returned directly with a small looking glass which he held out before Hubba Hubba, who nearly fell off his perch. “I'm a parrot!” he squawked. “I'm a parrot! Razzmorten! You turned me back into a parrot.” He turned his head this way and that and lunged forward to inspect himself more minutely. “Wow! I don't know what to say. How can I ever thank you?”
“Don't thank me yet. Yes, you are a parrot. I've been telling you that. The fact is that you're still a crow on the outside.”
Hubba Hubba hissed and jerked back from the looking glass. “So, you put a spell on the mirror so I could see how I should look. How thoughtful.”
“Good of you to remember your manners in spite of your disappointment. But no, that's not where I put the spell. The spell is on you.”
“Sweet. That's even worse. You put a spell on me so I'd think I look like a parrot. That's really going 'o
impress Pebbles. 'Hey Pebs, I think I look like a parrot so how about you and I getting together and...?'“ He gnashed his beak at the twitters from the sparrows across room. “Oh yea! Fine! Everybody laugh at the frustrated crow. You all have your lives the way you want them. You can look in the mirror and see who you really are any time you want to.”
“Hubba Hubba. I have it so that we all see a parrot when we look at you, isn't that so?” declared Razzmorten, turning to the sparrows, who each nodded emphatically. “It's just that it's only a spell, a glamour. I can wave it aside if you like, or leave it in place. But remember, it's just a spell. You still need Ugleeuh to change you back if you're ever to be your old self again.”
“So. If I flew out the window, the birds in that apple tree would see a parrot flying outside?”
Razzmorten nodded.
“And Pebbles would see a parrot too? Not a crow, right?”
Razzmorten nodded again.
“Hey! Thanks, Razzmorten. Tain't perfect, but... Wow! I just hope it's not as close as I ever get to being me again.”
***
“King Neron,” said Minuet, offering her hand to the Elven king. “This is truly an unexpected surprise and honor. I assume that you've come to see my father, so I'll send for him, now. Meanwhile, please sit and have some refreshments.”
“Thank you,” said King Neron, as he accepted the cider and pastries already being set before him. “However, as much as I look forward to seeing Razzmorten, it is you and King Hebraun I've come to see.”
Minuet and Hebraun discussed pleasantries and news of state while Neron ate. At last he removed his napkin and turned aside to address them. “I've come in hopes of negotiating an alliance between our two peoples,” he said. Seeing that their speechless astonishment implied delight, he smiled and carefully unwrapped a mage crystal and handed it to them. Within its depths there appeared a beautiful Elven maiden with captivating opal eyes who was smiling with adoration at at Lukus. Minuet gasped, but Neron saw that she smiled as she did.
“Who is she?” said Hebraun. “She's stunning.”
“Yes, she is,” said Neron. “She's my granddaughter, Soraya, and I'm here to propose an alliance by marriage between her and your son, Prince Lukus.”
“They already appear quite taken with each other,” said Minuet, sounding pleased. “Please give me a moment to adjust. His finding a mate was quite unexpected. I'm stunned, but I can't imagine that he could have made a better choice.”
“I quite understand,” said King Neron, smoothly. “Soraya is also quite young for marriage, as Elven girls go. Nevertheless, it's been confirmed by the counsel of elders that your son and my granddaughter are already bound by what we know as a true heart bond. Such bonds aren't to be dismissed for they can only be broken by the death of one of the pair so bound. There are even a number cases where the bond was not even severed by the death of one of the pair. Though it respectfully be your decision, yet I most emphatically pray you accept this alliance.” He knelt solemnly beside his chair.
Hebraun and Minuet already knew about this sort of thing. They had even long been aware that denying an alliance between two young people with an Elven heart bond would be disastrous, perhaps even fatal. There was nothing to discuss. They turned as one to King Neron. “Must the marriage take place soon?” said Minuet, now admirably composed.
“No,” said Neron, shaking his head, “for that we do have time, though the betrothal ceremony should be undertaken as soon as it is feasible.”
“Feasible, yes,” said Hebraun. “I'm afraid that both our son and daughter are ensnared in the Chokewood Forest. Bailitheoir Cailli has sent us a ransom note from there with demands stated for their safe return. Her demands are excessive and troublesome, I'm afraid.”
“Knowing her, I'm hardly surprised. You don't have to tell me, of course, but I'd expect she's demanding her own freedom for the release of the prince and princess.”
“Yes. Those are her exact demands,” said Hebraun, with a flicker of anger in his eyes.
“If there be anything I can do to assist you in their safe return, please don't hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you,” said Hebruan. “We're carefully going over our options with Razzmorten and the Captain of the Guard, but have yet to determine our best course of action. I'll certainly keep your offer in mind.”
Neron stroked his bearded chin thoughtfully. “Of course, the safest thing to do may simply be to agree to Ugleeuh's demands in the hopes of recapturing her afterwards, on the kidnapping charge.”
“Actually, that's the option which appears most feasible to us, also,” said Hebraun. “However we're afraid that bagging Ugleeuh, once she's gotten loose will prove right difficult.”
“I don't think there's any doubt about that,” said Neron. “That sorceress is a vengeful, dangerous woman with no particular familial feelings to stay her hand if she's thwarted. Well, you take my meaning.”
“Indeed, and those are our thoughts and fears, also.”
Neron nodded and looked up to see Razzmorten walk in with a yellow headed parrot upon his shoulder.
“Hubba Hubba!” cried Minuet.
“It's quite a tale,” said Razzmorten as he caught Neron's surprised look. “Get comfortable then, my Elven friend. It goes like this...”
***
Ugleeuh took another sweeping pass above the swamp on her broom. “They have to be in here,” she growled above the buffeting wind. “Well, sooner or later I'll get them. And when I do, I'm going to find out just how much torture a young body can take and still live. I'll teach them to run off.” As she took another pass, she sat bolt upright on her broomstick in disbelief. “Whoa! Now that's the definite pull of right strong magic, and it just came in the north edge of the Peppermint. No way that's Rose or Lukus. So who'd dare come in without an invitation? Razzmorten? No. Definitely not his aura. Certainly not Minuet's. It's almost like mine.” She hurtled away at once to find out.
It wasn't long before she was skimming the tree-tops inside the north border of the Peppermint Forest. “There,” she murmured. “Well I'll be. She's making enough noise stumbling about in the briars.” The girl below was so intent on making her way that she had no idea she was being watched from above. Ugleeuh dropped between the trees for a closer look and nearly toppled off her broom before soaring back above the treetops. She caught her breath and calmed her racing heart and swooped below again. “Yes!” she cackled. “It is!” There was no one else it could possibly be. Her daughter, her real daughter, had come seeking her at last. “But she mustn't see me like this, not like a gnarled old hag.” Quickly she cast a glamorie upon herself to appear as she had in her youth. Her daughter couldn't help but recognize her for who she was. After all, they could be twins. And from the feel she'd gotten of the girl's aura, they'd one day have fairly equal power. She landed less than a rod away, expecting her excitement and admiration. She got neither.
“Well!” spat Spitemorta as she yanked the hem of her dress from the thorny grasp of a rose briar. “Its high time you showed up. I'm ready to go back to Goll. Surely you could've had a better reception than this for your own daughter. And what's that ugly stick you're sitting astride? I'm surely not supposed to ride on it with you, am I?”
Ugleeuh was not going to put up with this. A few signs in the air and the girl was mute and furious. “Tough!” she said. “This is my domain. Nothing comes or goes here without my allowing it, including you. So. You've come to develop your magic, aye? Now, I could help you with that if you have some respect. You're my daughter. I did give you your life. But if you push me, I'll take it clean away.” She shoved her cold squint into Spitemorta's eyes. “Good,” she thought. “Her heart matches her looks or she'd doubt my words. If she did, I'd have to kill her to make my point.
“Now daughter, get on my ugly stick or walk,” she said with a smile.
Spitemorta threw her leg over at once.
“Good choice, sweetheart.” And with that, they shot away over
the treetops.
Spitemorta still had no way of talking, but when she shifted her white knuckled grip on the broom handle, she saw the tops of the trees flying by below and gasped.
“We're going to my cabin for a little chat,” said Ugleeuh, turning about to talk above the whistling wind. “Then I'll decide whether to teach you or to do away with you.”
Spitemorta looked up with horrified eyes to find her mother grinning.
Chapter 51
Lipperella sat directly in front of Rose, studying her closely. “What do you remember? It could be very helpful if I knew the truth about Razorback's death.”
Rose closed her eyes with a frown and rubbed her temples before looking up. “It was such a long time ago,” she said. “The recollections are like a dream. I don't know where to begin.”
Lipperella nodded.
“I was real young, maybe three,” said Rose. “I must've been because that was the very year I got my unicorn for my birthday. Lukus wasn't even born yet, but Mother must have known he was on the way because I think I remember her asking me how I'd like having a sister or brother to play with.
“We were in the dining hall with Father when a guard came rushing in and left with him. When he came back, he was talking about Razorback setting fire to everything. From what I grew up hearing, the guard had taken him to see a man who'd been burnt horribly by Razorback. I think he even died in front of Father.
“Anyway, Mother and Father were very upset over what Razorback was doing, though I have no idea what was said. Undoubtedly it was about his setting fire to field and farm. But I do remember being really scared. Then, Father was going to go kill Razorback and he and Mother were tramping about the room shouting at each other. And then Mother went to sobbing and pounding on his chest while he held onto her. It's the only time in my life I ever saw anything like that out of them.
“Then Father left and I remember being with Mother and being terrified for the longest spell. I remember sleeping beside her in their bed, all scared, so the ordeal with Razorback must have gone on for a while. I remember Grandfather Razzmorten showing up, and it was a huge deal for Mother, too, but that's all I remember. Over the years I heard things that had to have been going on.”
Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Page 56
