The dream faded and I opened my eyes. The afternoon was half over, and the pain in my shoulder had shrunk to a dull ache. My arm was bare, still swollen, but less than before. I even felt well enough to be hungry.
The sleeve of my gown lay crumpled a few feet away from me. The boots leaned against my sack, although I had no recollection of taking them off. They had expanded and again appeared much too big for my feet.
They were dangerous transportation. But they had enabled me to get rid of the ogre. I sat up. I had killed an ogre, or at the least I had wounded him terribly, and he would be a long while healing. I grinned. I, Addie the fearful, Addie the shy, had prevailed against an ogre!
I knew how Drualt felt when he vanquished a foe. I had never known before, but now I knew why Drualt was called the laugher.
Drualt, the laugher,
Laughed at the sun
On his shield,
The moon in his silver sword,
The drum in his heart.
Laughed at his someday death
Glimpsed from afar.
Drualt, the laugher,
Laughed at laughing.
Addie, the laugher.
I wished I could tell Meryl.
Meryl—I was suddenly certain that something terrible had happened—that the sleep had come, or something worse. I raised the spyglass.
No gray pennant flew. I let out the breath I’d been holding.
I wondered if the spyglass could penetrate the castle walls and I could see her. I lowered it ever so slightly and found myself staring at the northwestern castle wall. But Meryl’s chamber and my own faced east. I twisted the third metal ring, and now I was peeping into a servant’s small chamber. The spyglass could see through stone and wood! I twisted again and found a corridor. It took a few minutes, but I found Meryl. She was in her nightdress, seated in her blue chair, a tray of food in her lap. She looked no worse.
Bella leaned forward in the red chair, probably urging her to eat. I wished for a magical glass for my ears, and another that I could speak into. A listenglass and a speakglass.
I lowered the spyglass. Locating our castle had told me how far I had gone and where I was. I had taken two boot steps north and two more to the west. I was on the Bamarrian Plains, and the river at my feet was the same Byne that fed our moat at home.
The river was narrower here, and lazier. On the opposite shore five cows grazed. Downstream a willow trailed its branches in the water. I took Rhys’s maps out of my sack. There were villages along the Byne. I could find one and spend the night at an inn. There would be no ogres at an inn.
And waste the rest of the day? I couldn’t. Besides—I looked down at myself—I wouldn’t be admitted at a respectable inn. My skirts were stained and muddy. The hem was shredded, and there was a tear all the way up to my knee.
An inn was impossible, but before I risked myself in Mulee Forest, I had to eat. I dug in my sack again and pulled out the magic tablecloth.
It felt silly to address a tablecloth. “Good tablecloth, please set thyself.”
It shook itself out, and a meal appeared, precisely enough for me, not the absurd abundance the tablecloth had displayed before. There were cool sweet pea soup, roasted sea bream, and for dessert mulberry pudding. Foods I loved.
I picked up the soupspoon, and the cloth that hung down the side of the nonexistent table shoved me! I stumbled back and found myself seated. There was no chair that I could see, but I felt as if I were sitting on a thin cushion over a wooden seat. I reached down. The cushion had an invisible fringe, and beneath the cushion I touched wood, or so it seemed. I thought I felt the grain, and it occurred to me to be careful of splinters, since an invisible splinter might prove impossible to remove.
Hunger took over. I forgot about the chair and ate. I finished every bite and said with utter sincerity, “Good tablecloth, I thank thee for a fine meal.”
It folded itself and hung in the air for a moment before starting to fall. I caught it and returned it to my sack.
The sun was low in the sky. I put the boots on again, grabbed up my sack, and aimed the spyglass south at the forest. If I had overcome an ogre, I could overcome a specter. I took a step.
It was less frightening now that I knew I could control my direction. I found that I had the greatest effect when the boots began to slow.
On the fourth step I would have landed in a lake if I hadn’t steered. But I avoided disaster and began to enjoy myself. It was exhilarating to whoosh along, to see the plains grow into hills and shrink again to plains. For a moment the boots swept me along a road. I rushed toward a line of wagons. As I passed them, I saw the terrified face of the lead driver.
In the middle of the sixteenth step I entered Mulee Forest. Oh no! I could never avoid all these trees. I was going to be dashed to death.
However, the boots knew their business. I was knocked about, and my gasping mouth filled with leaves, but I wasn’t much hurt. The boots slowed at last, and I threw myself on the ground. I spit out the leaves and sat up, looking for spiders.
I saw none and began to breathe again.
I removed the seven-league boots and replaced them with my ordinary ones. The forest was quiet, probably shocked into silence by my arrival. If specters had ears, and I didn’t know if they did, every one of them would know I was here. Well, I had come to find a specter. I wanted them to know.
The trees around me were Bamarrian locusts from which hung the hairy vines I had seen in the spyglass. The ground was soft, layered with decades, probably centuries, of dead leaves. Between the locusts grew tall stalks topped with waxy red flowers, unnaturally bright in this shadow land.
The noise of the forest resumed. A lark sang, sounding as sweet and lovely as any lark at home. Insects whirred and droned. A woodpecker drummed. I heard rustling in the underbrush. I stayed still and waited, my pulse racing, but nothing came at me.
The air was damp and chilly. I found the cloak in my sack, wrapped myself in it, and was warmed in an instant.
I didn’t know what to do next. I was here, and I had thought that would be enough.
“Here I am,” I finally called. “Come find me.” My voice sounded high-pitched and brittle. It hung in the air, and I waited for it to crack and clatter to the ground.
I imagined specters behind every tree, laughing at me—at my hopes, my intentions, my folly in entering their domain. They’d be pleased if Meryl died. They’d be delighted to cause my death too.
I began to walk, watching for specters and spiders. “Here I am. Come to me.”
Nothing came. I walked on, although I was exhausted and my shoulder had begun to throb.
Luck was with me. I saw no spiders.
Luck was against me. I saw no specters.
The forest scene hardly changed. I passed from locusts to oaks to hemlocks, and the flowers were different, but the vines remained the same, and the murky light never diminished, even though night must have fallen outside the forest.
Just when I was too tired to take another step, I came to a glade. I collapsed on a carpet of moss and looked up. High above me there was a break in the ceiling of leaves. I saw a dark sky and three stars.
That sky and those stars were a great comfort. They were the world outside the forest. I smiled up at them. I had tried hard today. I could do no more without rest.
I tucked my sack under my head for a pillow, stretched out, and was asleep in an instant.
Chapter Sixteen
* * *
“PRINCESS ADDIE?”
It was Rhys’s voice. I struggled out of a deep sleep. Rhys! I woke up completely. “Is Meryl worse?” I sat up, drawing the cloak tighter around me for warmth.
“She’s the same.”
The sky was still dark, but I saw him clearly in the ghostly light of the forest.
He crouched over me. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
I smiled at his anxious expression. I was so glad to see him.
“You hurt your arm!”
“It’s nothing. I only rid myself of an ogre,” I said, unable to resist boasting.
He bowed by way of congratulation. “I have news myself,” he said. “About the cure.”
I jumped up. “You found it?”
“Not the cure, but a cure. It’s here in the forest. Under the forest, anyway. I’ll tell you about it on our way there.”
I picked up my sack. “I’m ready.”
He took the sack from me, and we set out. The forest was quieter than before. I heard rustling and the occasional crack of a twig breaking, but no birdsong. I wondered what time it was.
Often there wasn’t room enough to walk side by side, so Rhys followed me, guiding me with his hand on my elbow. His touch was a comfort—more than a comfort.
I even stopped worrying about spiders. If I saw one, Rhys would know what to do.
As we went, he explained how he’d come upon the special cure. His first day at the citadel had ended at midday, and he was free until tomorrow afternoon. He’d gone to Bamarre castle to see how Meryl fared. Then he’d set out to find me, and on his way he’d met a dwarf.
“I walked a way with him,” he said. “I’d never met a tipsy dwarf before, Addie . . . Princess Addie. This fellow had quaffed too much ale, and it loosened his tongue.”
The dwarf had told Rhys about the dwarfs’ great ceremony, which was held once in every two centuries. Rhys explained that most dwarfs live two hundred years. Their queen, however, lives forever, one lifetime after another. Each time she becomes old and begins to die, the dwarfs carry her on a jeweled palanquin through hundreds of miles of underground passages to a place deep below Mulee Forest.
Rhys’s voice was hushed. I looked back and saw that he was wide-eyed, filled with the drama of the great event. “They sing as they go to keep the queen’s spirits up. Isn’t that grand?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Finally they reach a secret chamber, their most sacred place. The walls are encrusted with precious stones, and there is a golden altar. Atop the altar is a small oaken box, and in the box is a plain silver ring. A dwarf prince places the ring on the dying queen’s finger, and she begins to revive. After she has worn it for an hour, she removes it. She needs it no longer because she has been restored to good health for another two hundred years. Then the celebration begins.”
“But it’s a charm for dwarfs, not humans,” I said tentatively, not understanding. “And the queen never has the Gray Death.”
“I thought so too, Addie . . . Princess Addie.” He stopped walking, and I stopped as well, or he would have lost his hold on my arm. “In my thoughts you are always Addie, simply Addie.”
In his thoughts! He thought of me when I wasn’t there?
I stammered, “You may c-call me Addie, simply Addie.”
“Addie . . . Ah, that comes more easily.” He pushed gently on my arm, and we began to walk again. “As I was saying, Addie, the dwarf told me that the ring cured royalty, any royalty, and of any disease.”
I thought about it. “But shouldn’t we go to the queen and ask to borrow the ring? It wouldn’t take long to get there with my boots, and you could fly.”
Rhys let go of my arm. I turned.
He was standing still, looking distressed. “That would be right, and that’s how we should do it, only it takes weeks to get an audience with the queen. But if we go directly to the secret chamber, we can borrow the ring and return it, all in a few hours.”
I considered it. The ring could save Meryl, perhaps today. I pictured her well again, thanking Rhys and me, whirling Bella around the room, brandishing Blood-biter. “As soon as Meryl is cured, the three of us could return the ring and then thank the dwarf queen.”
Rhys nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll do it—”
Someone in the distance called my name. “Did you hear that?” I asked.
“No.” He paused, listening. “Hear what?”
“Someone called me. It came from that direction.” I pointed to my right. It had been a man’s voice, but I didn’t recognize it.
“Is that the first time you’ve heard it?”
“Yes. The first time.”
“The Mulee is full of phantom sounds, noises to lure you into danger. You may hear it again.”
“Is it a specter?”
“It must be, but this deep in the forest you won’t catch it. If you follow the voice, it will only lead you to your death.”
Let us find the ring quickly and leave this place, I thought. I began walking again. “How do we get down to the secret chamber?”
“There is an entryway. The dwarf described it, and I found it. It’s not far. I would have retrieved the ring myself, but the dwarf said the charm would be broken if anyone approached the chamber who was neither dwarf nor royal. I’ll guard the entrance. I saw several murky shapes lurking about when I was there.”
We walked on in silence for a few minutes. I thought about the dwarf queen. I said, “I’m—”
At the same moment, he said, “Addie—”
We stopped speaking, confused. Rhys said gallantly, “Tell me, and I shall wait.” His hand twitched on my arm, and I thought he was battling the impulse to bow.
I smiled. “I was about to say that I’m surprised the queen never came forward with the ring when my mother was sick, but perhaps she didn’t think of it.”
“It’s the only explanation. She wouldn’t mean any harm.”
“What were you going to say?”
“Hmm. I was going to say that I learned something from Orne today. He—”
“About the Gray Death?”
“No. It’s about Orne himself. Perhaps I shouldn’t mention it now.”
“Please tell me.”
“It’s this.” He cleared his throat. “No sorcerer is sterner than Orne. None is less interested in the world beyond his sorcery, yet yesterday Orne confessed to me that he once was wed to a human! Three hundred years ago, he said.”
Rhys’s teacher, the one likeliest to influence him, wed to a human!
I heard the phantom voice again, calling my name. And again. “Princess Addie, Princess Addie.” It sounded so real.
“I thought he didn’t care for humans, but he told me how sweet his wife was.”
I stumbled over a tree root. Rhys tightened his grip on my arm and saved me from falling.
“Then Orne added something astonishing. He said that all the best sorcerers had once been devoted to another creature, a human, elf, or dwarf.” Rhys paused. “But then he wouldn’t say another word on the subject. He only warned me not to neglect my studies.”
Too much was happening at once. And there was that voice again, calling me, reminding me how fearful a place Mulee Forest was.
“I meant not to say a word of this,” Rhys said. “I’m not much of a sorcerer if I can’t command my own lips.”
I wished he’d told me later, after Meryl . . . after Meryl was cured—only a few hours from now, if I found the ring!
With Meryl cured, I’d be delighted about Orne’s wife—and I’d be able to wonder what it meant for me.
“Are we near the entrance?” I said.
“Quite near. Addie?” He paused. “May I speak of this—Orne’s marriage and, um, related matters . . . may I speak again at a better time?”
The answer was yes. It could be nothing else, but I wished he’d stop for now. “I don’t know. I suppose.”
He fell silent at last. I wondered how long we’d been walking. I couldn’t measure time in this unchanging half-light.
“Ah. Here we are.”
I saw no entrance, just a pile of rocks, boulders almost. Rhys took out his baton and pointed it at the topmost, biggest rock, which lifted and floated to the foot of a towering maple tree.
Where the rock had been was now a hole, with steps leading downward. I meant to approach it boldly. But my knees felt weak, so I edged toward it. The opening was wide at the mouth but narrowed quickly. Cold, putrid air streamed from it.
“The dwarf said the walk was no more than half an hour.”
Half an hour, and half an hour to return. An hour in that tunnel! “How will I see my way?”
“I can give you light, but I don’t like your going in there alone. Perhaps we should go to the queen after all.”
“We can’t. Meryl can’t wait.”
Rhys tapped his baton twice and held it out to me. “When you enter the darkness, it will begin to glow.”
I took the baton. “If anything happens to me, will you go straight to the queen and beg for an immediate audience?”
He nodded and went on nodding as I added, “If she won’t grant it, tell Father. Perhaps she’ll see him more quickly.”
I crouched over the entrance. A gust of foul air eddied out. I drew the cloak tighter around me and turned back to Rhys. “Couldn’t . . .” I was about to ask if he’d come in a short way with me, but I couldn’t risk Meryl’s life. “I suppose . . . I’ll go now.”
Rhys looked so worried that it eased my fear a bit.
“Farewell.” I lowered my foot to the first step. Icy cold traveled up my leg to my heart. I withdrew my leg. I couldn’t go in there.
I had to.
I tried to make myself move, but I stood frozen.
It was absurd. Entering the tunnel was the least dangerous thing I’d done all day. No monsters would be within, and Rhys would guard the entrance.
I took a deep breath—and still failed to move. I was yet the coward, unable to do what was needed. I turned to Rhys.
“If you think it unsafe,” he said, “you mustn’t go in there. You can simply go on with your quest.”
How would I continue the quest if I couldn’t even do this? I put my foot on the first step again, and this time I didn’t withdraw it, but I couldn’t make my other foot follow. I stood that way for a full five minutes, staring into the darkness, while the hole belched its dank vapors at me.
If I fetched the ring, Meryl would be well and I’d be safe. I’d never have to leave Bamarre castle again if I didn’t want to.
The Two Princesses of Bamarre Page 8
