Ella and the Panther's Quest

by Lisa Anne Nisula

“We go in.”

  There was a latch, so I lifted the bolt out of the looped twig that was holding it closed and pushed the gate open. Panther ducked under my arm and led the way forward.

  On the other side of the gate, there were more bushes, all neatly trimmed, with a clear path of orange dirt between them. I couldn’t see any sign of which way to go, just two long, hedge-lined paths of orange dirt. Panther glanced both ways, then started walking to the left. Footstool and I followed.

  I wasn’t sure how Panther was choosing our path through the maze, but again he seemed to know where he wanted to go. He ignored the first two turns and took the third turn even before we could see that the path we were on dead-ended in a few yards.

  The new path was lined with box hedges and followed a slight curve. I stayed very close to Panther. There was something eerie about the place, but I couldn’t put my finger on what was making me so jumpy. Panther’s fur was still slightly on end, which didn’t make me feel any better.

  We had not gone far when this path ended in a wall of branches. Panther took the last turning we’d passed and led us deeper into the maze. Footstool pressed closer to me, almost in danger of tripping me. I wasn’t sure if I was glad to know I wasn’t the only one who was nervous, or even more nervous knowing that my fears weren’t necessarily completely irrational.

  The new path started to double back. After a few yards, the orange dirt gave way to smooth round stones. I tried to find something sinister in that, but, while the path was well maintained, it was not to an inhuman degree. There was nothing obvious to explain the uneasy feeling I still had. It was another few minutes before I realized what was making me so jumpy; there were no sounds other than our own feet clicking on the stones. No birds chirping, no small animals in the bushes, not even breezes rustling the leaves. It was as if everything else had been scared away. I wondered if this was what was worrying us all and what it meant. “It’s very quiet.”

  Panther started. He blinked a couple of times, then cocked his head to the side. “I suppose it is.”

  So that wasn’t what was making him nervous. He’d been lost in his own thoughts, not even paying attention to the surroundings. I decided that made his sense of direction even more impressive, even as it made me wonder what other danger he had noticed and I had missed.

  Another bend in the path took us in a different direction, one roughly parallel to our entry into the maze. It wasn’t long before I could hear the crunching of the other human’s feet again, the only sound besides our own feet. I still couldn’t make anything sensible out from the sounds. The complete silence had been more comforting.

  Panther kept following the twists and turns, saying nothing, his eyes scanning the path ahead and the hedges on the sides, his fur still on end and his body tense, ready to spring. He hesitated at the next bend, almost like he didn’t want to see what was coming next. It was nothing like his reaction to the other dangers. Briefly I wondered if he knew this place, knew what was coming, and dreaded it. But wouldn’t he have warned me, told me to be on my guard, if he knew what the threat was? Before I could ask, Panther had squared his shoulders and turned the corner.

  Around the corner, the path opened out, letting us see the end of the maze. I stopped short, looking out over a knot garden filled with perfectly normal herbs planted outside a perfectly normal kitchen door, or as normal as doors in a world with talking panthers and walking footstools could be. It did seem like it was going to behave as I expected a door to, no talking, just sitting there in its stone wall surrounded by herbs and a vine of some sort. I couldn’t be sure if the herbs were normal or not, but they didn’t talk. I was so relieved that there wasn’t some monster waiting for us, I think I was a little giddy. Panther stared out over the garden, his head cocked to the side again. It was so normal, so like a painting, I couldn’t believe it was in the midst of this strange forest.

  A comfortable middle-aged woman wearing a black dress and a large gray apron came into view from a part of the lawn still blocked by the hedges. She went into the herb garden and cut some stalks of rosemary, stuffing them into her apron pockets. When she had what she needed, she turned to the basil. That put Panther and me in her line of sight. She stopped abruptly, holding her gardening shears so they were pointed at the panther. “Who are you?” It was a command, almost an accusation, definitely not a polite inquiry.

  Panther did not seem irritated by her tone. He stepped forward, and I noticed his fur was smooth now. Whatever he had feared, he hadn’t seen it. He inclined his head, almost like a bow, and addressed the woman. “Mistress, we are travelers who were lost in the forest.”

  The woman went pale, her mouth open to call someone, and then her eyes fell on me.

  I knew I looked pathetic after my time with the knight, bedraggled and muddy, still damp around the edges, with a fading bruise over one eye. I straightened my shoulders, trying to look less pitiful.

  “Clive! John! We have guests!” The woman stepped forward and said in a voice now more like a schoolmarm than a general, “Come along, dear. I’ll get you settled.” She held her hand out to me.

  “Go on,” Panther murmured. “It will be well.”

  I stepped out of the hedge maze and into the garden. Now I could see the whole house. It was huge, a hunting lodge for some great lord. The walls were all stone, with leaded glass windows marking out the floors. At a quick glance I counted four floors, and possibly an attic. Each window was surrounded by carving that was too far away for me to make out more than shapes and was hung with heavy drapes. My attempts to look less pitiful seemed pointless.

  Two men in black pants and gray shirts ran out of the kitchen door, presumably Clive and John.

  “You called us, Mistress Leone?”

  “Yes, we have guests. I will show this young lady to her rooms. Will you take care of the other?” She looked down her nose as she said the last bit.

  The two men turned to Panther. They both nodded very deliberately. Mistress Leone seemed satisfied and led the way inside. I glanced back at Panther. Clive and John were approaching him cautiously from different sides. Panther didn’t seem bothered by that. He smiled at me and nodded toward the kitchen door.

  Panther seemed to trust these people, and except for a bit of odd behavior, hardly surprising when encountering a talking panther for the first time, they did seem all right, so I followed Mistress Leone through the kitchen door into the manor house. I opened my mouth to ask where Panther was being taken and when I would see him again, but Mistress Leone led me quickly through to the front hall, which was paneled in what might have been mahogany and went up three stories. She motioned to a maid polishing the banister of the sweeping staircase. “Phoebe will show you your room, my dear, and you can have a nice meal while your bath is prepared.” She handed a large ring of iron keys to the maid.

  Of course I would be separated from Panther for that. But as I followed Phoebe upstairs, I still wondered where he would be taken and when I would see him.

  We climbed the main staircase, its thick embroidered runner muffling our steps, then a smaller staircase, only twice as wide as mine at home. There was a third staircase, but Phoebe turned on the landing, took a candle from a small table, and led me down another mahogany paneled hallway with heavy doors on each side and no windows. I stayed close to the flickering sliver of candlelight.

  “I’ll put you in the back room.” Phoebe pulled out the large ring of iron keys. They rattled as she flipped through them. She found the one she wanted and used it to open the final door in the hallway.

  The room I was ushered into was almost triple the size of my living room back home, paneled in dark wood, the floor covered with several exotic rugs piled on each other: a fur rug under the armchair by the fire, a red rug patterned with vines under a small table, a deep blue with paisley and a tan mille fleurs in the center of the room. And that was only the top layer; more peeked out underneath. The bed was large enough to fit the room, piled high with pillows and b
eaded velvet coverlets. Phoebe gestured to the table by the window that looked out over the gardens. I sat and two younger maids entered with trays of food. I hesitated, remembering many tales of enchanted food I had read, but Phoebe was hovering and the other maids were waiting. I made a bit of fuss choosing my food from the serving dishes. “How did you all come to be here, in the middle of the forest?”

  Phoebe answered. “Have you seen the castle on the horizon, when the day is clear?”

  I nodded as I piled some crab cakes on my plate. “I have seen it.”

  “When it was cursed, we came here.”

  They were from the castle. No wonder Panther had trusted them in the garden; he must have recognized them. I started on my food. While I ate, maids bustled in and out with towels and footmen brought firewood in from the hallway and out again through another door.

  When I had eaten my fill, I was taken to the other door, which led to a marble bathroom where a large tub had been prepared. Under the fragrant foam, I relaxed. I wasn’t sure how I was brought to the bed and buried under the covers.

  Chapter 8

  Many hours later, I woke up feeling rested and comfortable. I lay in bed confused for a few minutes, since I had been expecting to be cold and more than a little hungry. As my hand brushed the velvet coverlet thrown over the bed, I remembered where I was and what had happened, or as much of it as I knew. I threw back the covers and sat up, still half asleep and half worried something would have changed for the worse. But the room was sunny with no sign of prison bars or evil knights. As I got out of bed, my bare feet sank into one of the warm carpets scattered around the bed. There was a paisley silk robe on the back of a chair, and I wrapped myself in it. Some pastries left over from dessert were still on the table. I took one with me to the window and looked out at the gardens. It seemed to be morning, and if the cakes were the same ones I’d been given for dessert when I arrived, it must be the next morning, unless the cakes were enchanted too. I took a tentative nibble, but I didn’t seem to grow or shrink or anything unusual.

  The door opened and Phoebe came in. “Hello, my lady. You had a good solid night’s sleep. How are you feeling?”

  So it was the next morning. “Much better. Thank you.”

  “I sent your clothes down to the laundry, but I’m sure something in the wardrobe will fit you.” Phoebe opened the mirrored doors and rummaged through the clothes inside. She pulled out several dresses and brought the mound of velvet and silk to me.

  “Some of these should fit you.”

  “Won’t she mind?”

  “Who mind?”

  “Whoever these belong to.”

  “Oh, these don’t belong to anyone. They’re what people have left here over the years.”

  The dresses certainly didn’t look like cast-offs, but that did explain the variety of colors and sizes spread out across the bed. Phoebe held them up in front of me one at a time, first a purple silk gown with red velvet trim, which she tossed on the bed, then a sea green dress with a pale blue underskirt and seed pearls on the bodice, which ended up on the chair by the dressing table. A pale yellow dress with purple embroidery and a red and black velvet dress ended up on the chair, while several pink dresses joined the purple silk on the bed. She considered a green skirt with black embroidery and a white blouse, finally adding it to the chair.

  Phoebe finally held up a blue velvet gown with silver trim. “This should work for a start. I’ll help lace you up.”

  I watched myself in the mirror as Phoebe tied me into the dress. The princess seams of the gown skimmed over me in a most flattering way and the color made my eyes seem bluer. Phoebe chattered on about all the things in the manor I could explore and see, except the one thing I wanted to see.

  “Where is Panther?”

  Phoebe fussed with my hair. “Don’t worry about him, dear. He’s being taken care of.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “I’ll ask. Now why don’t you go and have a look at the gardens or the library. The ballroom is still covered in dust sheets, but you can look if you’d like.” Phoebe collected up the dresses from the bed and started to hang them in the back of the closet.

  “You’ll ask Panther if I can see him?”

  Phoebe didn’t turn away from her task. “I’ll find out what’s what.”

  I waited to see if she would say more, but Phoebe took the dresses from the chair and started arranging them in the front of the closet. I had to be content with that.

  *

  I found Footstool waiting for me outside my door. Together we went to the stairs. Now the hallway was lit by small lamps every few feet, giving me enough light to see my way to the staircase and to get a look at the other doors. They looked much friendlier now. I could see the knobs and hinges were carved with vines or scrolls, the door frames with leaves and other natural looking ornamentation, all except for one door. That door was by itself in the hallway and draped in a thick black silk curtain. As I got closer, I could see the curtain had been heavily embroidered, but the work was done in black thread, so went almost unnoticed. I couldn’t figure out why so much work had been put into something that would not be seen. Footstool seemed confused by it too, but I didn’t see any way we could examine the door more closely without moving the curtain and drawing attention to ourselves, so we went downstairs.

  I spent the morning trying to learn the way from my room to the garden I could see from my windows. Footstool proved to have a better memory than I did. After letting me get us lost for most of the morning, he found the garden door and the way back to my room in time to meet a maid arriving with a tray of sandwiches.

  “We thought you would like some lunch, my lady.”

  “That was kind of you.” I sat at the small table by the window and looked over the selection in front of me.

  “Those are chicken and fish paste and the brown bread has cheese.”

  I took the cheese since it was clearly not fish paste. “I didn’t get your name last night.”

  “Clara, my lady.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Clara seemed to be a talkative person. I tried to press a little. “This is an unusual place for a house.”

  “Yes, but we have everything we could want here: a library and a ballroom, even stables if you like riding.”

  “But the forest…”

  “Oh, it doesn’t bother the horses as long as you don’t go too far out. The grounds are large enough for a good afternoon of riding if you follow the paths Mr. McNair laid out.”

  “And the maze we came through?”

  “That’s always been there. It can be fun to get lost in, but you have to have a good sense of direction to get out. And the horses don’t like it.”

  I gave up trying to get any information on the curse out of Clara, at least until I knew the maid better. The last thing I needed was to make the staff suspicious of me, and until I knew what would do that, it was best to be cautious and not be too interested in the curse.

  *

  As I was finishing my lunch, Mistress Leone came into the room. She stood quietly by the door, not watching me, but not doing anything else. I didn’t know whether to look at her or not. Footstool finally nudged me in the leg. I took that to mean I was supposed to say something. “Hello?”

  When I acknowledged her, she came to life. “Good afternoon, my lady. I thought a tour of the house might be of interest to you. I could introduce you to the rest of the staff. I’m sure it must be lonely for you with the master gone.”

  “I’d like that.” I left my napkin on the table and stood.

  Mistress Leone seemed pleased that her idea had gone over so well. “Come along, then.” Even in a good mood, she still swept out of the room.

  As I followed Mistress Leone into the hallway, I wondered about the master. Perhaps Panther could ask him for help finding a hero. I held the door for Footstool, but he curled up near the fireplace and seemed completely uninterested in the tour. I shrugged and closed the door behind me.r />
  Mistress Leone opened the first door we reached and ushered me in. “If you see a suite of rooms you would prefer, I can have Phoebe move you without any trouble.”

  The rooms on the floor were all grand, from a very masculine hunt-themed room to a delicate room filled with lace and yellow roses, but none had a view to compare with the one I had been given. They all faced the front of the house, where there was nothing but the dark forest. It might have been a nice view when there was activity outside, carriages arriving, people leaving for walks or going riding, and something other than the enchanted forest as a backdrop, but I felt much safer with half the house between me and the forest outside those windows. There was only one other door on the same side of the hallway as mine, the one with the black curtain draped in front of it. Its location meant it could have offered a garden view, but Mistress Leone rushed me past that door and down the stairs. Every time I was rushed past that forbidden door, it made me a little more curious about what was behind it. Comparing the number of rooms I’d seen facing the front of the house to the ones in my suite, I could guess that there was enough space for a suite of huge rooms behind the black curtain.

  I was drumming up the courage to ask Mistress Leone about it when I was distracted by a slim gentleman with smooth gray hair, dressed in a neat black suit, standing on the landing. He bowed quite properly as Mistress Leone stopped to greet him. “Miss Ella, I would like to present Grigsby, our major domo.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” I held out my hand. Grigsby took it and bowed lower.

  “The pleasure is mine, my lady.”

  Mistress Leone started walking before Grigsby had fully straightened, her shoes clicking down the hall. I hurried to catch up. I was starting to think that questing was nothing more than following a series of people who walked too fast.

  “If you do not mind, my lady, I think we will visit the kitchens next and you can meet Mrs. Boswell, our head cook. You should also meet McNair, but he is leading a hunting party in the woods and will not be back for some time.” She did not pause for questions.