Red Unicorn

by Tanith Lee

"Can't see you in there," joked Stinx.

  Perfect.

  The city was full of interesting things. In one part there was a race track, and yellow horses with lustrous coats were going through their paces, drawing curious-looking chariots that seemed to be too small. Stinx explained this was only a practice. There was a street that wound up the rock full of cheese makers, and another of carpenters, and another of clock repairers. Seeing these, Tanaquil became downcast. No one would need, or allow, anyone else to mend things here.

  There were also public gardens, and here they had tomato sandwiches under some very tall trees. Tanaquil had also noticed no one seemed to eat any meat or fish, though she had seen milk being drunk. And there were, in Cheesemaker Street, plenty of cheeses for sale.

  "When you've done," said Stinx, "I'll take you to see home."

  "Oh, do you live up here?" asked Tanaquil, rather nervously.

  "No, not home. Hoam. The palace, that's the name. Though some of the nobles pronounce it differently."

  "Yes, I'd like to see the palace."

  Tanaquil realized, more nervous than before, she might even have to try to get into the palace. But undoubtedly it would be more sensible not to—why this compulsion? If she had a parallel self here, all the more reason to return to her own world.

  It was nice in the park, though. Sitting on plushy grass, looking at two or three people reading, or some nearby children playing a quiet but intense game.

  Stinx had bought the peeve-veepe a nutsteak. The peeve had thanked Stinx, who shrugged, and then ceremoniously 'killed' the steak in a geranium bed. The peeve seemed to enjoy the snack, and afterwards lay sunning himself on the grass, paws in the air.

  "You may get to see Tanakil," said Stinx, as they walked up more steep stairways, now lined with marble statues, towards the top of the rock.

  "May I?"

  "She comes out on Murra afternoon, when Liliam's busy, to ask if the people want anything. They don't much, from her."

  This was a lot of information at once.

  "Murra—" said Tanaquil.

  "It's Murraday today. Forraday tomorrow. Lost track of time, you have, with travelling, I daresay."

  "Oh, yes. Of course. When you say, to see if the people want anything—"

  "Settle quarrels, give judgements, that sort of thing. Liliam's busy a lot now anyway, with the wedding due next month."

  An awful sensation went through Tanaquil's stomach, which was like the tomato sandwich turning into a ball of wet washing and spinning round very fast.

  "Wedding."

  "Liliam's wedding."

  Tanaquil felt she must ask at once whom Liliam was marrying, and why. And lots of other feverish questions. She could not get one of them out. Because, in her world, Lizra had been going to marry Honj. And it seemed as if, here, the same thing must be going to happen.

  Stinx had not noted anything.

  "Here y'are."

  They had come up on to a very wide highway. On either side of the sloping, rising road, which was paved with green and white, stood tall gilded lamp standards topped by golden dolphins holding lanterns. This was very like Sea City. At the top of the road, stood the jewelry green palace, which seemed partly transparent, and gleamed like emerald.

  "Hoam," said Stinx.

  From the roofs floated all the silver banners of Sulkana Liliam.

  Directly at the road's centre, across from where Stinx, Tanaquil, and the peeve had stopped, rose a magnificent gilded clock tower, with a complicated clock. Even as they arrived, gold figures, soldiers and monkeys, dancers and bears, began to move around its face, and a sonorous bell rang four times.

  "Still two hours wrong," said Stinx without surprise.

  Crowds of well-dressed people were idling along the road, and several flower and fruit sellers were seated with their baskets at the road's edge. It had been a tranquil scene, but only for a moment.

  No sooner had the clock struck the wrong time, than everyone began to push and scurry to the far sides of the pavement, and the sellers of things lugged their baskets in the same direction, away from the road.

  From the palace of Hoam came a brazen fanfare. Two impressive gates rolled slowly open. And then some hundred or so soldiers in burnished mail came hurrying down the road, shouting and waving their arms. This did not seem very military.

  As they ran nearer, Tanaquil heard the words of the shout they were all using: "Get back! The princess is coming!"

  Tanaquil frowned. And on instinct got the peeve by the scruff and hauled him up in her arms.

  "No, want—"

  "Keep still. Or I'll put you in this hat."

  Cowed, the peeve stopped struggling.

  Next minute, out of the palace gates erupted a chariot drawn by two leaping, careering, crazy-looking horses. It tore down the road at a quite unsuitable pace, and you saw it had been very sensible to get completely out of its way.

  The rider of the chariot was a girl dressed in a gold-embroidered gown. A circlet of green gems flashed on her long, unruly red hair, in which, too, there seemed to be tied green ribbons.

  As she drew level with the clock tower, she swerved the chariot madly. The horses puffed and pranced. There was a screech and a clatter, and next instant one of the chariot wheels came off and rolled violently into the crowd, which gave way, swearing and laughing.

  Somehow the girl in the chariot did not fall out. She slid down on to her feet and stood there glowering.

  All noise ceased.

  From among the soldiers stepped an extremely elegant and handsome black man, who, judging by his battle decorations and goldwork, was at least a commander.

  "Three cheers for the Princess Tanakil," said this man, with a face so blank and a voice so expressionless, he could only be on the verge of howling laughter himself.

  The crowd cheered stupidly loudly, and threw up its hats.

  Princess Tanakil snarled. She said furiously, "All right. The wheel came off."

  Tanaquil stared until her eyes hurt. Then she blinked. But nothing had changed. It was still her own self standing there, in a red-hot temper.

  Me, at my very worst.

  Was this funny or terrifying? Unbelievable or amazing? Mainly it's just plain damn embarrassing.

  The elegant black man, still entirely controlled, announced: "The princess will now hear any problems you may wish to put before her. She asks that you be brief, as she has much business at the palace."

  The air bulged, trying not to burst with mirth. You could feel it. Strong as an approaching storm.

  And Princess Tanakil glared at them all, making sure no one even smiled.

  But just then the clock gave out the most appalling bon-n-n-g.

  The chariot horses reared and went galloping off down the road, dragging the one-wheeled chariot, until soldiers caught them.

  Some of the crowd seemed to be crying into handkerchiefs.

  Princess Tanakil clenched her fists.

  The commander said, so sternly that even Stinx could not restrain a grunt of choked amusement, "You there. Come forward, sir. About which difficulty do you wish to consult the princess?"

  And then Tanaquil saw two soldiers pushing forward the elderly magician from the marketplace. Like the princess, he was red-cheeked and angry. And he and she met each other's aggrieved eyes with obvious relief.

  "I've been robbed, your highness."

  Tanaquil thought, This has happened—something like this—before.

  And she pictured, almost two years back, the Artisans' Guild complaining in the street about her, to Lizra in the chariot under the lamppost.

  She should slip away. But the crowd was too large, and all keen to enjoy everything.

  "Robbed of what, and by whom?"

  Princess Tanakil had, of course, Tanaquil's voice. A little rougher perhaps, no doubt from often shouting.

  "Two peasants from the village watched my show, and when I invented an animal, forced it from me and made off with it. It was a talking ve
epe, worth hundreds of silver blonks. They claimed they knew you."

  Stinx said, "Now we're for it. But she won't mind, will she? I mean, seeing who you are."

  "Who am I supposed to be?" asked Tanaquil.

  Stinx seemed exasperatingly happy. He said nothing else.

  And now the mage was pointing straight at them.

  "There, the thieves. And my veepe, too."

  Here we go again. All eyes were on Tanaquil, the peeve, and Stinx.

  Tanaquil bowed her head under the heavy hat.

  She heard Princess Tanakil say, "Bring them here."

  And so, of course, the soldiers were driving them now, out into the roadway, under the broken clock, to a spot about ten paces from the princess.

  Tanaquil peered through straw and roses. In fact, Princess Tanakil did not have green ribbons in her hair. Strands of the hair itself were dyed bright green. Why did one immediately think this had happened because of some sort of mistake?

  "What have you got to say?" snapped Princess Tanakil.

  Stinx said firmly, "It's me friend's veepe. I paid him goat price for it. What more does the old devil want?"

  There was a silence. A new silence.

  Tanaquil grasped it was caused by all the crowd, all the soldiers, the elegant commander, and the princess herself, squinting at Tanaquil, thinking, But she's just like. . . .

  "How dare you stand in front of me in that hat?" said the princess in a hard, hot voice. "Take it off!"

  Tanaquil hesitated, and in that moment Stinx, the poor soul, swept the hat from her head, revealing her as if he were the mage, and she his most successful trick.

  "There, highness."

  Everyone gave a collective gasp.

  Overhead came a scratchy, tinny sound, and then a clatter and a tinkle, as both clock hands came off the clock and fell in the road.

  Tanaquil raised her head and stared unflinchingly at her double. Tanaquil thought, perhaps irrelevantly, I must never get angry if I look like that.

  Finally, it was the commander who spoke. "Your orders, madam."

  The princess said, in a voice like a sqwulf cracking a nut, "Arrest her."

  As the soldiers seized her, and the peeve, trying to bite, was stuffed into a sack, and Stinx, trying to land a rescuing punch, was flattened, Tanaquil realized that yet one more thing was wrong. But it was too late to worry about it.

  To the joyous congratulations of the crowd, she was marched up the road to the palace of Hoam.

  IX

  As she waited in the big room, Tanaquil admired the painted ceiling and the painted pillars. She felt light-headed, and still between laughter and alarm. Certainly her situation did not look very promising. Worse than everything might be what had not happened when the soldiers seized first her, and then the peeve. Since the black unicorn had given them both the gift of invulnerability, no one had been able to attack either of them successfully. It was true, people might sometimes tread on their feet (or tail), collide with them, and so on, by accident. But deliberately to rush at and aggressively grab them; that should have been out of the question. Yet it had occurred. At the palace, Tanaquil's hands had even been tied together behind her back. As for the peeve, he was still rolling and growling in the sack, over there, against a pillar.

  The pillars were effective, though. Painted with longstemmed blue flowers and scarlet leaves. And the ceiling, with gold—were they vultures?—flying over a big red sun.

  With a bang the door flew open.

  Princess Tanakil prowled into the room.

  It was no surprise when the door handle the princess had just touched fell off. With a curse, she kicked the door shut.

  "And now you'll tell me who you are, and what your game is," snarled the princess. "You're a spy, aren't you? You're here to learn our secrets."

  Tanaquil found it difficult to treat Tanakil seriously, although perhaps she should try.

  "I thought I was supposed to tell you who I am, not you tell me who I am."

  "What?"

  The princess stared at her.

  Tanaquil stared back.

  "How did you make yourself resemble me? Is it sorcery? Be careful. I am a powerful witch."

  "Oh really?" said Tanaquil. "That's jolly." Over by the pillar, the peeve had stopped grumbling and was keeping very still. Tanaquil maybe would be well-advised to be as careful as the princess had warned her to be. She said, "I'm not a spy. I just came . . . on a visit. I agree, we do look awfully alike. Funny, isn't it?"

  "Funny? Funny! Be quiet. Your insolence amazes me. I could have you put to death at once."

  "Could you? Why would you?"

  "Be quiet, I said. I must think."

  Tanaquil looked at the floor, whose tiles were painted with little green sea waves. They made her dizzy. She looked out of a long window instead, away over the rock to the sea itself.

  The princess stopped in midstride.

  "What do you call yourself?"

  Tanaquil thought. It would be a mistake to offer her real name, and Feather somehow was too soft for all this. Inspiration came to her again. "Quill," she announced. The last part of her name, all that made it different from Tanakil.

  "Quill? Like a pen?"

  "That's it."

  "Why? Do you write a lot? Letters about foreign powers? Spy notes . . ."

  "I'm not a spy. I'm just . . . on holiday."

  "Yes, and the sky is blue," sneered Tanakil, witheringly.

  Tanaquil laughed before she could stop herself.

  At that moment, from an inner door, something came slinking, dark and low, into the room.

  The princess glanced at it and shouted, "Sit! Sit down."

  The arrival halted but did not sit. It was a black peeve, a proper veepe. With big yellow eyes it looked at both redheads. Then it turned and leapt lightly up on to a tall chest. There it draped itself, two paws and a tail hanging over.

  "Is that your familiar?" asked Tanaquil, genuinely fascinated.

  "Don't ask questions! I ask the questions." The princess strode forward now. She glared into Tanaquil's face. "I can make you answer. On the other hand, if you're only the simpleton you'd have me believe, I might have a use for you. There must be a use. You're my double. And at this time—"

  She stopped, because, between themselves and the window, in the gap of two pillars, a strange red glowing drifted over the floor, like a faint red ghost. The ghost of—

  "What's that?"

  "I don't know."

  "Don't try to work magic on me."

  Was it the unicorn? The red unicorn of the dreams? Or only sunlight falling oddly, catching some reflection from some red object in the room?

  The princess spoke two or three mysterious words. A circle of light like a plate sprang up into the air—and broke.

  Both young women jumped back to avoid the dropping, clacking bits.

  "I meant to do it," said the princess loftily. "A demonstration. As easily as that, I can break you."

  Tanaquil could not resist. She leaned over and made a pass across the pieces. She did not know if it would work, since here her expected powers seemed diminished. Besides, normally, she would never have entered into this sort of symbolic magical duel.

  However, the broken plate mended instantly, without a scar.

  "You, too! You're a witch!"

  "I mend things. And you," Tanaquil added thoughtfully, "break them."

  The plate of light vanished. The red glow had melted away.

  And someone knocked loudly on the outer door.

  The princess spun about. As she did so, her hair flew back and Tanaquil saw the princess had a nasty bruise on her left temple.

  That's where the cork from the bottle hit me. Tanaquil had forgotten. She touched her own head. It was no longer sore. It was apparently the princess now who had both the mark and the headache.

  "Who's there?" shouted the princess furiously at the door.

  "Oynt, madam. Let me in."

  The princess strode t
o the door. There was some awkwardness, since the handle had come off on the inside. Eventually, Oynt used the handle on the outside.

  He was a short plump noble in jacket, sleeves and trousers of clashing mauves. "I must warn you, highness. The Sulkana's coming to see you right now, with her counselor."

  "All right. Well done, Oynt."

  Oynt sprinted out and off up the corridor. The princess pushed the door almost closed and came back to Tanaquil.

  "Get into that pillar."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "There. It's a fake. It's hollow. Go in and stay in. How you behave may decide your fate."

  "Goody."

  Princess Tanakil drew herself up. Though slender as Tanaquil, she seemed to swell like an angry frog.

  "All right," said Tanaquil. "Look, I'm going in."

  The pillar had a tiny doorknob. Tanaquil used it and the fake pillar opened. Inside there was just room for her to stand. And when the princess slammed this door shut, Tanaquil found there was also a small eyehole to look out through.

  She's like me, Tanaquil thought, if I'd been more like my mother. Jaive at her most arrogant and unreasonable.

  The princess, Tanaquil could see, was pacing now.

  On its tall chest, the veepe lashed its tail in time to her steps. Tanaquil tried to peer around to see the sack with the peeve, but could not manage it.

  Between two pillars she did glimpse something vaporous, red like smoke. But only for a second.

  Out in the corridor, a military escort presented swords to the guard at the door.

  Here then, was Sulkana Liliam and her counselor. A horrible idea came to Tanaquil: could this counselor be the parallel of the hideous Gasb, who had served Lizra's father?

  Then Liliam glided into the room.

  Princess Tanakil bobbed a curtsey.

  Well, Lizra never asked that of me. Or did she?

  But was this the other Lizra?

  Tanaquil studied her. The Sulkana was small and slight. She had a cold lovely face. Her dress was icy white and stiff with silver beading. In one hand she carried an ornamental stick, a sort of rod of office. It had a silver and gold unicorn's head. Her eyes were very dark.

  Yes, it was Lizra. Lizra at her coldest and most remote, as Tanakil was Tanaquil at her most hot and irritable.