Voice for Princess (v1.1)

by John Morressy

  “Our task will not be simple, my dear. Not simple at all. What we have here is a permutational spell… very tricky thing to deal with,” Kedrigern said abstractedly. He turned, and began, “It really would be best to wait until I…,” but the abandoned look in Princess’s eyes silenced him at once.

  He returned his attention to the cube. The radiance at its center was slowly swirling, like dyes dropped carefully into still water. He whispered a melodious phrase, and then another. The glow deepened, and clotted. He gestured for Princess to go to the opposite side of the table, facing him, and as she moved he took up a longer incantation in an utterly strange language of soft liquid syllables which flowed into one another without pause.

  When Princess stood opposite him, he reached out, took her hands, and placed her palms flat against the sides of the cube. He placed his own hands over hers. The light within the crystal drew in upon itself, congealed, and solidified into a golden cube within a cube.

  Kedrigern’s head was throbbing. Sweat ran down his forehead and into his eyes. He blinked it away, staring hard at the letters slowly coming into view on the face of the inner cube. The print was tiny, the light was painfully bright, his vision was blurry and his head felt as if it were about to burst; but there was no stopping now. Squinting and cocking his head, he read off the words of the unbinding spell as one by one they came into sight. When he spoke the final word, the golden cube burst into a million tiny fragments of light that glowed, and faded, and left the crystal and the room in semidarkness.

  Princess was slumping forward, dazed. Kedrigern rushed around the table just in time to catch her as she fell. He carried her to the bedroom, placed her on the bed, and summoned Spot.

  “Get the cold water and the compress from my study, Spot. Bring them here at once,” he ordered.

  Princess was pale, but her breath and heartbeat were regular. Kedrigern began to swab her brow and cheeks as soon as Spot arrived, and in a very short time, her eyelids fluttered. He set to wiping his own brow as she opened her eyes, looked up at him, and smiled.

  “Can you speak, my dear?” he asked eagerly.

  She took a deep breath, and softly said, “.Yes”

  “Wonderful! How do you feel?”

  “.well Very .Well,” she said.

  Kedrigern let out a great sigh of relief. “I’m so glad to hear. For just a moment there… I had some difficulty making out the words of the spell, you see. But apparently I got it right.”

  She frowned, shook her head, and said, “.wrong it got you think I .No”

  “What?”

  “.backward thing silly the recited You”

  “Backward?”

  “.backward, right That’s”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “?!say can you all that Is ?dear, Oh”

  “Well… at least I didn’t recite it sideways, my dear,” Kedrigern said, grasping at the first straw that occurred to him. “There’s no telling what you’d sound like if I’d done that. This way, if you’re careful—”

  “?life my of rest the for backward talking be I Will ?careful, mean you do What !Careful”

  “Oh, dear,” Kedrigern repeated.

  “.say to you for Easy ?dear, Oh,” Princess said bitterly.

  “Look at it this way: it’s a start. You’re speaking, and that’s the important thing.”

  “.Backward,” she muttered.

  “It beats croaking, doesn’t it? If you just keep to simple sentences, everything will be fine. Meanwhile, I’ll read everything I’ve got on the crystal of Caracodissa and permutational spells, and we can try it again in a few days. Everything’s going to be all right. You’ll see,” Kedrigern said cheerfully.

  Princess looked him in the eye, still dubious but trying not to show her doubts. At last she smiled and held out her hands to him. “.up me Help,” she said.

  Kedrigern was much relieved when she rose, stretched, and then walked out of the bedroom in completely normal fashion. When, at dinner, she did not begin with dessert and end with soup, he was reassured. And when Princess showed no sign of waking up before going to sleep that night, his mind was put completely at ease. The spell had affected only her speech. Kedrigern was confident that, given time to bone up, and a clear head, he could set everything to rights.

  He spent the next day in his study, reading closely. When he came out, in midaftemoon, to take a short breather, he received a shock to see Princess preparing an upside down cake for dessert that evening; but this was sheer coincidence. He sighed with relief and sat on the kitchen bench.

  “?hard working you Are,” she asked.

  “Yes. The crystal of Caracodissa is an amazingly complicated device. It seems that whenever one summons up the spell, it appears in slightly different form in each face of the crystal. Only one form is the right one, but there’s no way to tell which it is.”

  Princess frowned in puzzlement “.one only saw I ?six were there sure you Are”

  “Whichever face you look into appears to be the only one with a spell showing. It was centuries before a young witch named Moggropple discovered the secret.”

  “?mirrors use you Could”

  “Moggropple tried just that. She surrounded the crystal with mirrors and recited all six spells, one after the other. She’s been trapped in the mirrors ever since. Six of her. No one knows the spell to get her out. They can’t even be sure which one is the real Moggropple, and what might happen if they let out one of the reflections. I don’t think it pays to get too clever with the crystal.”

  “?do you will What”

  “If we have one chance in six of finding the right spell, I suppose we just have to keep trying.”

  “…now, minute a Wait,” Princess said, holding up her hand.

  “It didn’t hurt, did it?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “And you did get your voice back.”

  “Yes,” she said reluctantly.

  “Well, there you are. We’ll try again tomorrow morning. There’s nothing to worry about,” Kedrigern said confidently.

  “?out inside Or ?sideways talking start I if What”

  “You’re worrying yourself unnecessarily, my dear,” said Kedrigern, rising. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few references to check out. I’ll be working late tonight, I’m afraid. I want to have everything ready for tomorrow morning.”

  The next morning, both Princess and Kedrigern were too edgy to eat a proper breakfast. Spot had scarcely cleared away their half-emptied plates when they went hand in hand to Kedrigern’s workroom. Kedrigern at once set to work, bustling about, covering his nervousness with activity and a stream of chatter.

  “Now, if you’ll take your place opposite me, just as you did the other day… that’s right, my dear, right there… hands by your sides, relaxed… nothing to worry about,” he said in a gentle, reassuring voice. “I’ll just clear away these empty bowls… there we are. Now, I’ll turn the crystal so… and see what happens when I read the spell in the next face. It won’t be any time at all, you’ll see. I’ll read the spell, and you’ll be speaking beautifully. Only one or two litle things to attend to before we… there… and then…”

  “!it with on get, Oh,” Princess cried sharply.

  “Certainly, my dear, certainly,” Kedrigern said with a soothing gesture. “I’m practically finished. There. Now. Are you ready, my dear?”

  “Yes,” she said, through clenched teeth.

  He nodded, took a deep breath, and commenced the summoning of the spirit in the cube. At his first words, the inner radiance came to life, and stirred, and began to glow. It spun and twisted, and Kedrigern began the incantation that would raise it to readiness.

  Motes and streamers of light danced in the crystal cube, ever closer and denser, moving in upon one another until a single glow hung shimmering in the center. Kedrigern reached for Princess’s cool hands, placed them on the sides of the crystal, and covered them with his own, just as he had done before. The light formed a bri
lliant inner cube. Once again, letters began to take shape before Kedrigern’s eyes, and he read off the spell slowly revealed to him.

  As the last word left his lips, the light burst into fragments. Kedrigern looked up quickly. Princess stared at the crystal, vacant-eyed, for a moment, then looked at him fully alert and aware.

  “No, it isn’t,” she said.

  “Is everything all right?” Kedrigern asked anxiously.

  “Well, I’m not. Something’s gone wrong again.”

  “You sound fine, my dear.”

  “Listen to me! I’m one sentence ahead of you, that’s what happened!” Princess cried.

  “What could have happened?”

  “—Ridiculous!”

  “But that’s—”

  Kedrigern waved his hands frantically for silence and restraint. Princess folded her arms like a gate shutting and looked at him with Armageddon in her eyes. With a flurry of soothing gestures, Kedrigern prepared for an immediate new attempt. He gave the crystal a quarter-turn. He wiped his damp forehead on his sleeve, rubbed his eyes, took three deep calming breaths, and for the third time, spoke the spell of summoning.

  The light this time was sluggish, moving slowly as winter honey in the center of the crystal cube. Kedrigern could sense the reluctance of the spirit within; but having once begun, he could not turn back. That was a fundamental rule of the wizard’s trade.

  When the summoning phrases were spoken, Kedrigern paused for breath. The cube was faintly glowing now, with a sallow, grudging light. Princess had relaxed; her hands were by her sides; and her eyes were fixed on the crystal.

  Kedrigern began the incantation. The inner light swirled fitfully, like a fish on a line, but its color brightened and deepened. As it gathered, Princess placed her palms against the sides, and Kedrigern enclosed her hands in his. The light rose, and flared, and died, and they stood in the fading afterglow exhausted, their bowed heads almost touching over the crystal cube.

  “Are you all right, my dear?” Kedrigern asked when he had his breath under control.

  Princess nodded. She took a long, deep breath, then another, and raised her eyes to meet Kedrigern’s.

  “Say something. Just a short phrase. Anything,” Kedrigern said.

  She cleared her throat. “Peererb,” she said.

  Kedrigern recoiled in shock, but quickly recovered his poise. “We’ll try again, my dear! A few minutes’ rest, that’s all we need, and then we’ll try it again,” he said quickly.

  “Peererb! Peererb!!” Princess cried, enraged.

  “Now, my dear, you must be patient. These things happen sometimes when you work with magic. It’s a momentary setback, nothing more. You mustn’t let it—Princess, what are you doing?!”

  Kedrigern sprang forward an instant too late. Princess swept up the crystal of Caracodissa in both hands and raised it over her head. With a furious “peererb” that drowned Kedrigern’s cry of horror, she hurled it with all her might to the stone floor.

  From the wreckage rose glimmering motes of golden light. They merged, and danced together in a flashing spiral, and then, with a tinkle of crystalline laughter, the spirit of the crystal of Caracodissa floated out a crack in the shutters and vanished into the light of day, forever free.

  “Princess, speak to me!” Kedrigern cried, rushing to her side.

  “Brereep,” she said, flying to his open arms.

  He clasped her tight to still her trembling and hide his own. “It’s all right, my dear. The spirit of the crystal was obviously determined not to be helpful. We’re well rid of it. I promise you, I’ll get your speech back as soon as I possibly can. But we’ve had quite enough magic for one day. Let’s have Spot make up a picnic basket. We’ve earned a holiday. What do you say to that, my dear?”

  “Brereep,” she said.

  Ten

  quicker than the eye

  Princess, as turned out, had had quite enough magic for that day and for many days to come. For some time following her unfortunate experience with the crystal of Caracodissa, she showed open detestation for magic in all forms. Since she shared the house with a practicing wizard, this was not an easy course of action, but Princess was a determined woman. At the first hint of a spell, at the slightest gesture that might be the prelude to an enchantment, her features froze and she uttered a single admonitory “Brereep.” It was warning enough for Kedrigern, who on such occasions withdrew to his study. Sometimes he continued his magic there; more often, he sulked.

  It was obvious to him that Princess was losing confidence in his powers, and this seemed unfair. By his magic he had delivered her from toadhood, filled this house with elegant furnishings, and rescued her from the clutches of a barbarian. On two occasions he had actually had her speaking again. One would think that a woman who had witnessed and experienced such things would live in a constant state of unshakeable faith.

  But not Princess. She chose to look always on the darker side of things. She remembered not Rupert’s meticulous transporting of precious goods, but his derangement of Kedrigern’s workroom and library; not the conjuring of a spirit to aid her, but the duplicity of the spirit summoned; not that the crystal of Caracodissa had restored her speech, but that it had restored it in a somewhat unusual manner. Worst of all, she overlooked the fact that she had been liberated from a powerful enchantment, and dwelt angrily on the fact that her speaking arrangements continued to be of the batrachian kind. Such an attitude, thought Kedrigern, was counterproductive. If Princess could not trust him fully, she might as well abandon all hope of regaining her human voice. The wizard-client relationship was deteriorating.

  Far worse in his mind, and the cause of most of his sulking, was the atmosphere of skepticism daily encountered in his own home. It was dispiriting. He could not imagine Charlemagne’s wife going around the palace muttering that the Holy Roman Empire was all nonsense, or William the Conqueror’s wife saying that invading England had been a foolish waste of time. Politicians’ wives were supportive. Even barbarians’ wives were willing to pitch in, or at least shout words of encouragement, when things were tough. But Princess was showing in every way she could that she trusted magic no more than Kedrigern himself trusted alchemy. It was enough to undermine a man’s faith in himself.

  The letter from Vosconu came very close to being the last straw. It arrived on a short, dark day in winter, delivered by a solemn messenger who stood silent and impassive by the fire, awaiting the wizard’s reply. It was very long, written in a tiny even hand, and contained a circumstantial account of the unpleasant aftermath of Kedrigern’s visit. In the opinion of Vosconu’s council—and of Vosconu himself—Kedrigern had not removed the curse, he had only shifted it. The vineyards were now healthy, but Vosconu’s cattle were beginning to suffer from loss of appetite and exhibiting signs of lameness. Clearly, it was the wizard’s fault, wrote Vosconu, and something had better be done about it quickly or the world would learn that a certain wizard dwelling on a certain mountain was going about collecting inflated fees for counterspells and disenchantments that ceased to operate once he was off the premises.

  Kedrigern contained his anger only with great effort. The curse on the vineyards had been a clumsy patchwork job unworthy of a wizard’s attention.

  Left to itself, it would have dissipated within a few days. But to placate the worrisome Vosconu, he had worked a first-class counterspell that would keep the vineyards safe from bad magic for generations to come. And this was his reward: doubts and accusations. First Princess, now Vosconu. It was difficult not to be bitter. It was, in fact, impossible.

  As winter closed in, Kedrigern kept more and more to his study, seeking the counterspell that would restore Princess’s speech and her confidence in him. He examined, one by one, the books that stood in tottery stacks about the room, or were jammed without system or order onto the shelves. It was a Herculean task, and his progress was agonizingly slow. Day after day he sought the necessary passage, and though he found a great many interesting th
ings, he did not find what he wanted.

  The first snow fell, and soon melted away. The next snow remained, and another soon covered it, and before long the little cottage lay snug in a hollow carved by the wind, surrounded on three sides by a rising, sweeping curl of snow. Only in the front of the house was the ground swept clear by the wind that blew unimpeded up the valley and over the meadow. On sunny windless days Kedrigern and Princess, warmly cloaked, took lunch in the dooryard, enjoying the sunshine and crisp air all the more for their long confinement withindoors.

  But there was no talk of magic during these alfresco luncheons. Deprived of his chief topic of interest, Kedrigern, who had no fund of small talk, was reduced to observations on the weather, a subject soon exhausted. One afternoon, having remarked that it was warm for the time of year, but not as warm as it might be, and that in any event, snow seemed unlikely for the next few days, he leaned back in his chair, turned his face up to the sun, and clasping his hands over his well-filled stomach, drifted off into a light doze, from which he was awakened by a startled “Brereep!”

  He snapped awake and saw Princess standing by the gate, shading her eyes from the glare of the sun and snow as she peered out over the meadow. She turned to him, pointed into the distance, and repeated, “Brereep!”

  “Are you sure, my dear?” he said, climbing to his feet. “It’s not the season for traveling.”

  “Brereep,” she said, pointing to a tiny dot far in the distance.

  “Yes, it does,” he agreed, digging under cloak and tunic for his medallion, drawing it forth and raising it to his eyes.

  “It is. It’s Axpad!”

  “Brereep?”

  “From the guild I belong to. Used to belong to, anyway. The one Conhoon was in. That’s where we got our medallions,” he explained. “Only good thing I ever got out of the foolish organization was that medallion. Now, what on earth could bring Axpad… ?” He fell silent, looking out at the speck trudging across the white expanse, and then, in sudden rage, he roared, “The medallion! He’s come to ask for it back, so they can hand it over to some sneaking alchemist! That’s what he’s here for!”