The Christening Quest

by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough

  “No,” she said, “But I do have an extra pair of skis—that is if you’re interested in a shortcut?”

  “Back to Queenston?”

  “Through the mountain, as Bronwyn and I did when we were girls, and to the sea.”

  “What then? Will your skis carry us across the sea to Miragenia?”

  “No, but I think the mermaids might. Or they might let us ride their sea serpent.”

  Rupert, who had never been on skis, through a mountain, seen mermaids, or ridden a sea serpent before, was more than eloquent at persuading the stableman that the horse, hound, and hawk he had borrowed from Roland would be a great benefit to the entire village and were deserving of his tenderest care.

  The skis were too short for him and the laces had to be lengthened to fit his feet, but once mounted on the skis, he watched his cousin glide forward with a half-stepping, half-skating gait, and soldiered bravely after her. On the river, he gained confidence and skill enough to pass her, but she stopped him with a gesture, and without explanation continued at a faster pace until she came to what looked like the side of the mountain, at which point she squatted down over her skis and plunged into some dead vegetation.

  In a short time her voice called to him. “Come ahead. It’s safe.”

  He did, gliding forward, squatting about where he thought he had seen her squat, and wondering what all the fuss was about when the bottom dropped out of the river, his skis flew out from under him, and he thumped down hard on his tailbone to slide through the dead brush and down into icy darkness.

  “I thought you said it was safe,” he said when he had recovered his breath to find her standing above him, waiting beside the frozen waterfall down which he had just fallen. They were surrounded by cavern walls pierced with holes through which pale light glittered on a wide rink, a pool of ice.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, “You’ll get the hang of the steep places after a while. There aren’t many like that one. What I meant was that the river is frozen down here, too. I wasn’t sure it would be, though I suppose I could have asked it. If it hadn’t been, I’d have needed you to pull me up again so we could try the other way, but I believe this is going to work.”

  Rupert finished checking and decided he was still in one piece. Carole produced a pocket torch from her bag of supplies and lit it just outside the tunnel on the opposite side of the pool.

  The tunnel was long and dark, breaking off at times into channels. The first of these forks baffled Carole for a moment.

  “But didn’t you notice them before?” Rupert asked.

  “The swan was pulling us in a boat. I suppose she just chose correctly. I haven’t tried the passage since. Just a moment. I’ll ask.”

  She knelt down and used the flame of the torch to melt a deep hole in the ice. A thin voice burbled up. “Which is the safest way to the sea for us, Blabbermouth?” she asked it.

  “To the right,” it said.

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  “Don’t mention it. It’s lonely down here, this time of year.”

  The next time she asked, the river was less than polite, advising them to go, “down the center, stupid.” Carole explained to Rupert that the river was changeable as it ran its course, a statement that was proved out as yet later, the voice, dulled to a sucking whisper, replied, “All ways are the same to me” and a lot more nonsense Rupert couldn’t make out.

  Carole knelt longer at that spot, her eyes flickering up at him in the torchlight like a wild beast that had paused to drink at the puddle in front of her. “The spell wears off here,” she said. “The river doesn’t talk at all on the other side of the mountain. But the right-hand passage appears widest, don’t you think?”

  He did and reasoned that if it was not, they could always retrace their tracks and find their way upstream again.

  When at last the cave broadened onto a horizon, it was a darkened one, with an undulating ribbon of green rippling along the edge between the star-filled sky and the broad expanse of snow that was the eastern Blabbermouth.

  They leaned on their poles at the mouth of the tunnel, allowing their eyes to rest on the green aurora and the stars. Abruptly, they found themselves staring instead at something quite different: All light was blocked from above when a cart-sized head dipped down from the top of the cave’s entrance and an upside-down muzzle emitted sulfurous gusts of welcome while great lamping eyes blinked at them.

  Rupert laughed. “How very clever. She followed us.”

  Carole felt unaccountably annoyed at the interruption. She had been enjoying the shushed ski through the mountain and the moonlight, the prospect of adventure in the company of her handsome and amiable young cousin. Surely just because she chose to delegate her own temporary duties there was no cause for every other creature in the east of Argonia to do likewise? “Grippeldice, why aren’t you patrolling? You know good and well it’s only us down here rather than invading armies or bandits.”

  The dragon did an airborne backwards somersault and landed gracefully upon her claws and tail in the riverbed ahead of them. She belched sparks at them.

  “What did she say?” Rupert asked, smiling a puzzled but winning smile in the dragon’s direction.

  “Nothing really. She’s just curious. She’s a youngster yet and doesn’t take her responsibilities seriously.” The last came out in a somewhat self-righteous tone, considering the speaker, Carole thought, chiding herself.

  “But if she’s on patrol, perhaps she did think we were invaders. I had no idea dragons were so intelligent.”

  The object of his admiration regarded him lovingly and chirruped.

  “I don’t think so, Grippeldice,” Carole replied quickly. “It doesn’t fit in with our plans. Why don’t you fly away now and tend to business? Dragons do not woo princes customarily, you know. You’re a separate species. It would never work out.”

  Grippeldice hung her head sulkily. Rupert gave Carole an indignant look. “She’s only trying to be friendly. You needn’t hurt her feelings. Please tell her that I think she’s very beautiful and that were I a dragon, I’d be sure to be smitten. As it is I hope we shall be friends.”

  Carole complied reluctantly. Her cousin might be a prince but he knew very little about dragons. She did know that even though her mother and father had dealt with Grippeldice’s parents on occasion, their dealings were cautious. Dragons might cooperate with people sometimes, but they weren’t to the best of her knowledge to be trusted as friends. The sort of behavior Grippeldice was displaying was so uncharacteristic as to make anyone with more brains than vanity nervous. Why, Carole and the dragon had all but grown up together and Grippeldice had certainly never offered her a ride.

  Grippeldice cooed. Rupert skied ahead of Carole and reached out to pat the dragon. The beast lowered her head and nudged invitingly at him.

  “Why, I think she means for me to ride her, cousin,” he said, bending down to unfasten his skis.

  “Your Highness, I don’t think that’s wise. No one has ever ridden Grippeldice that I know of and the coast is not too far to ski. Besides, the mermaids are…”

  Rupert was not to be thwarted. “Nonsense. No one has ridden her before because she has not wished them to. I’m sure that if I request it, she will carry you also. Don’t be such a spoilsport. I’ll need a translator. Tell her I said you must come, too, and we will only ride as far as the seacoast. I don’t want to miss seeing mermaids.”

  The serious young man who had so movingly related to her the plight of his sister seemed now more interested in trying one new thrill after another, but that was fairly typical of the jaded sort of person one found at court, Carole thought, her good mood at winning free of the village fading into irritation.

  She couldn’t resist mumbling into Grippeldice’s ear as she climbed aboard that she hoped the dragon would be content with transporting them to the coast and then resume her more serious duties.

  “Bother my duties, dearie,” Grippeldice said. “They inc
lude invaders and he is the only stranger in these parts. I see more in a single day’s flight than you would see coming in a week. I can spare the time, and still leave your puny domain safe. Why are you so all-fired interested in my duties all of a sudden anyway, hotshot? You never said much to me before except ‘Your cow is over there, dragon.’ Trying to get rid of me? Don’t blame you. I didn’t realize they made mortals like him!”

  Carole shook her head and settled down between two spines in front of Rupert. “They don’t, dragon. But he’s part of my family and part of the royal family besides. I just wouldn’t want you to get so carried away you… forget yourself and treat him like one of your cows.”

  The dragon snorted at that but didn’t reply.

  Rupert was a-gawk over the countryside between the tunnel and the sea, pointing out every starlit bend in the river with awe and wonder. Unfortunately, by the time Carole finished her exchange with the dragon, the beast’s strong wings had already carried them to the coast. Carole dismounted and stood staring out to sea. When Rupert asked if she was calling the mermaids, she didn’t answer. This caused Rupert to look all the more avidly out to sea, while Grippeldice flapped nervously nearby. The dragon cooed inquiringly. Rupert gave her a half-impatient, half-apologetic shrug and continued his vigil. Grippeldice sighed warmly and departed, sensing herself dismissed. Rupert glanced quickly at his cousin, wondering when and how she was going to produce the mermaids.

  Having returned to the spot where she first met the mermaids for the purpose of calling them again, the witch hesitated, recalling the less pleasant aspects of that other meeting. Weighing in her mind the mer-women’s kinship with herself against their fondness for drowning anyone without mer connections, her own power against theirs, her wish to help Rupert meet the obligation he had incurred to Bronwyn against the danger, ultimately she decided that they had come this far and it would be much further to return, and not nearly so interesting. “Perhaps it would be better if you keep out of sight until I have a chance to talk to them again,” she told her cousin finally. “They have a rather unusual view of… life, you might say, and can be dangerous to men, particularly. I would feel much better if I were able to see if I can persuade them to guarantee our passage before they meet you.”

  “You wouldn’t just send them away before I got to meet them, would you?” he asked.

  But his question was carried to sea with the same cold wind that blew the first notes of her whistled calling to the mermaids. He watched her for a while, reasoning that he would hide when he saw something coming on the distant sea, and then he paced, shivering despite his fur-lined cloak and gloves. He wandered in small circles, drawing patterns in the snow with the toe of his boot and still his cousin whistled. The tune was eerie and pervasive, rising and falling on the wind, but catchy, and soon he found that he too was whistling.

  She batted her hand sharply at him to stop and he shrugged. “I’m not magic. Surely they can’t hear me. And if they can, perhaps it helps.”

  “Don’t—” she began but was interrupted as something large and narrow slid toward them through the waves. In the dark waters directly in front of them, two wet heads popped to the surface. Rupert was too busy staring to remember to hide, even if he still could have done so.

  “Ooh, sweeting, I love how you modified that song of calling,” said the head on the right in a sweet, piping voice. Her hair gleamed wet and faintly green around her.

  “Lorelei! How good to see you again,” Carole said.

  “It’s good to see you, too, you sly little eel, but whoever is that behind you?” she replied.

  “I think Carole’s going to be her same old selfish self,” the other mermaid said in a low and sultry voice, thick as honey. Her hair shone lavender in the starlight, and she regarded Rupert critically. “How about it, minnow? Are you keeping him for yourself or is he a present?”

  “Cordelia, you haven’t changed at all, have you? This is Prince Rupert, our King and Queen’s son,” Carole replied calmly. “Perhaps you remember his sister, Princess Bronwyn, who was with me when we met before.”

  “I don’t remember her” Lorelei gushed. “But I do remember that delicious king.”

  “Yesss,” Cordelia hissed, flapping up for a better look and giving Rupert a good look himself at what provided mermaids with some of their frontal buoyancy and a great deal of their charm. “My, my, how much nicer the family resemblance looks on the boys.” To Carole she said, “Well, are you going to tell us why you went to all the trouble to make an introduction, clamface, or are you just going to stand there on your tail and pop your eyes at us all night?”

  “Cordelia, don’t be such a shark. Poor Carole, do stop being so awfully dry and come out here where it’s comfortable,” Lorelei said. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to talk about anything with you towering over us like that.”

  “Do you mind?” Carole asked Rupert, as if excusing herself to go to the privy. “I do need to talk to them—”

  “Er, no, of course not. Never mind me. I’ll just stand here and bask in the charm of such lovely company.” The last was almost sincere, despite the fact that he was freezing to death. The bows of both mermaids were now above water, no longer concealed by the wet and clinging hair, and the sirens smiled at him flirtatiously as he talked to little brown Carole.

  While the witch was stripping to her bathing costume Lorelei winked at him. “Why don’t you tell us yourself what brings you so far, sweeting?”

  “Why, tales of the beauties who dwell in the sea. A sight so wondrous I had to behold it for myself, fair maiden,” he replied with a wink of his own.

  “Fair mai—oh, you!” Lorelei squealed, and splashed him playfully. “Wouldn’t you like to come in and play, too? Isn’t it awfully cold and dry out there?” Her shining eyes grew large and fascinating as the sea while her voice crooned melodiously in his ears.

  “Lorelei,” Carole said warningly, splashing feet first in beside her. “He is not for drowning. Come on. I’m counting on you to help me persuade Cordelia to take us to Frostingdung.”

  “Do you want to go to Frostingdung, sweeting?” Lorelei asked, still gazing up at him and rewetting her lips with the tip of her tongue.

  “In your company? Any man would be a fool not to.”

  “And our company is the only reason?” Cordelia asked, the calculation in her voice coated with honey.

  “Other than a small family errand that provides an excuse for the journey, yes, ma’am. A fellow can’t refuse a service for his own sister, can he, especially when he’s as great an admirer of womankind as I?” He leered a little to make the point, and even Cordelia fanned her tail coquettishly.

  “Well, then,” she said, “I do think we can help you. Ollie, accommodate the gentleman.”

  Carole, who had been vainly paddling around trying to catch someone’s attention, watched with a rueful expression as a coil of the silver-spotted sea serpent previously lolling just beneath the surface slithered ashore. Rupert sat quickly and unceremoniously as the coil gathered him in its circumference. He straddled the slippery back, thrilling at the novelty of what he was about to do. Belatedly, he noticed Carole, still swimming, reach ashore to grab her clothing and supply pouch.

  “Cousin, may I assist you?” he asked, leaning precariously toward her.

  She handed up the parcel. “Thank you, no. I believe I’ll swim for now.” She sounded, and felt, a little helpless. She had been outmaneuvered by the mermaids and by her cousin himself at trying to obtain some guarantee of safety for him. But then, mermaids were far more experienced at luring men than she was at luring mermaids, so she supposed she would simply have to keep alert and hope for the best.

  For a time it looked as if her worries were unfounded. Rupert artlessly engaged both sirens in conversation, questioning them about their domain and listening with flattering interest to their simpering replies. Before long his hair and clothing were glistening with ice formed by the freezing of droplets sprayed up
on him by his excited hostesses. Most of their prey—guests—didn’t care to engage them in conversation. It was fortunate for Rupert that he was inclined to do so, and restful for Carole, since talking kept the mermaids from trying out any of their siren songs on him.

  Later, when they did so, they were merely showing off and he insisted on singing harmony in a competently melodious baritone.

  “How nicely you sing, cousin,” Carole said, when they had finished, chiming in before Cordelia and Lorelei could embark upon a more lethal tune. “One would think you of mer stock yourself.”

  He ducked his head, boyishly pleased at the compliment. “My christening gift from your father, Minstrel Colin. The gift of song.”

  Even the sea serpent responded to Rupert’s own odd sort of spell. The monster turned its long flat head occasionally to gaze with a sort of bemused admiration at its passenger. This caused it to forget the rhythm of its humping glide through the water and at one point threatened to dump Rupert overboard, except that Carole was watching for just such an event and spoke sharply. Ollie looked sheepish, for a sea serpent, when he wove his head back to set the proper course again.

  Carole swam along to the left and a bit ahead of the mermaids, near Ollie’s head. The cadence of her own stroking soothed her apprehensiveness somewhat, and the limitlessness of the sea pleased her in a way that made her wonder how she could have spent so long away from it. When she returned from the quest, perhaps she would build herself a retreat near the shore, and leave the village and her parents sometimes to go to it. Perhaps she would even live there, and people would have to come from afar to find her. If they would. She was not likely to be as sought-after as her gregarious cousin, holding court from Ollie’s back.

  It seemed to her on one hand that everyone made a tremendous fuss over the silly young man, and she wondered why, briefly, as she looked into the sea. But when she glanced back up into the happy, enthusiastic countenance of the handsome prince, she decided that he wasn’t all that silly, though the reaction of every living creature who encountered him appeared to be. She had heard of the glamour of the faeries before but this was the first time she had ever seen it in action. Her aunt, Queen Amberwine, was said to possess the quality in abundance, but was often ill or absent while Carole was at court so the witch personally had never observed her to any degree to form an opinion one way or the other. But Rupert, combining his fathers imposing stature with the refinement of his mother’s long and delicate bone structure, the King’s bluff honesty with the Queen’s charm, had some sort of magic that not even his rowan shield could subdue.