Voice for Princess (v1.1)

by John Morressy

  “But my dear, as you yourself pointed out, all your friends are toads. Surely you wouldn’t want—”

  “Oh, that’s right. That’s the way to respond to my needs. Be as cruel, harsh, and unfeeling as you can be,” she said, her voice rich with scorn.

  “Cruel?” Kedrigern repeated, utterly bewildered.

  “Go ahead, dig up the past, fling it in my face. Do everything you can to humiliate, degrade, demean, abase, and mortify me. Tell me once again how if you hadn’t come along, I’d still be sitting on a lily pad in a dank misty bog waiting for the next fat fly to come along.”

  “My dear, I’ve never said such a thing.”

  “No, but you’re always thinking it. You’re ashamed of me. That’s why you’re always running off to your study to work a spell, charm, cantrip, or enchantment. I don’t think you love me anymore.”

  “How can you say such a thing, my sweet?” Kedrigern cried. “Why, I love you more than ever!”

  “You never say so. We never visit, or have guests. I think you want to keep me hidden, concealed, and sequestered here, like a guilty secret. The magic has gone out of our marriage,” said Princess with a sigh.

  “Now, that is patently false. If the magic ever went out of our marriage, my love, you would at once become a toad, while I—”

  Princess gave a cry of anguish and buried her face in her hands. “You’re shouting at me!” she said in a muffled voice. “You don’t love me!”

  Actually, Kedrigern loved Princess just this side of uxoriousness, but a very long lifetime spent in the solitary and often perilous study of magic had prepared him poorly for the everyday stresses of domestic life. He could face dragons, demons, and the vilest sorcery with aplomb, but minor arguments at home dismayed him, and the sight of Princess in tears turned him to jelly.

  “There, now, my sweet,” he said in his most soothing manner, enfolding her in his arms, rigid and unyielding though she was. “You know I love you, and I’d do anything to make you happy. If you really want to get away for a while, or see someone, we’ll take a little trip. We’ll go anywhere you like.”

  She raised her head. “Really?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “When?”

  Kedrigern hated travel. He loathed little trips as much as big ones. His idea of a good vacation was a sunny afternoon’s nap on a bench in his own dooryard, and an extra glass or two of good wine with dinner. But he gritted his teeth, swallowed, and said, “Whenever you—”

  And then a loud knock sounded at the door, followed at portentous intervals by a second and then a third.

  “Are we expecting anyone?” Kedrigern asked.

  “We’re never expecting anyone,” said Princess.

  “No… Odd time for a client. I think I’d better answer it myself. Spot does give people a start,” Kedrigern said, turning toward the front door. A small grotesque form went bounding past him and he said, “No, Spot, I’ll see who it is. You get back to the kitchen.”

  “Yah!” the little house-troll said obediently, pivoting on one huge foot and returning whence it came.

  Kedrigern worked a quick protective spell—it was best to be cautious these days—and opened the door. Before him stood a tall, slender, black-bearded man dressed from head to foot in black, with a black patch over one eye.

  Removing a black-plumed black hat, the fellow favored him with a sweeping bow.

  “Master Kedrigern, I presume?” he said in a high, rasping voice.

  “I am he.”

  “I am the servant of Prince Grodz. My master has sent me to seek the aid of your wisdom. He wishes you to come to Castle Grodzik.”

  “Well, I’m not sure what I can do for Prince Grodz, or when… but come in. You must be thirsty.”

  Kedrigern led the messenger inside. At the sight of Princess, the man in black bowed once again, with great flourishes of his plumed hat.

  “This is my wife, Princess,” said the wizard.

  The messenger bowed a third time, and said, “I am overwhelmed by the presence of such beauty and such wisdom in one room. Surely I am unworthy to remain within these walls. I beg you to permit me to deliver my master’s request and then withdraw while you consider it.”

  “Whatever you like. Are you sure you’re not thirsty?”

  “It is not for the servant of Prince Grodz to be thirsty without Prince Grodz’s permission,” the visitor rasped.

  “All right, then, don’t be thirsty. What exactly is the problem?”

  “A plague of rats is upon my master.”

  Kedrigern frowned. “I’m not a rat catcher, I’m a wizard. Grodz wants a rat catcher.”

  “Three rat catchers have come to the castle. All three have been devoured by the rats.”

  “I see. Well, I can refer you to a colleague of mine who specializes in this sort of thing. Conhoon of the Three Gifts is his name. He’s rid whole kingdoms of rats and mice and moles. My field is really a bit different. I deal in remedial magic, mostly. Counterspells and such.”

  “That is why my master seelcs your aid. This is not an ordinary plague of rats. They are enchanted rats.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “They sing and dance on moonlit nights. They whisper unnerving phrases in the ears of sleepers. They scrawl disrespectful messages on the walls of the castle,” the messenger said.

  Kedrigern nodded. “That certainly doesn’t sound like your ordinary rat,” he admitted.

  “My master has no doubt.”

  “All right, then, you tell Grodz that I’ll be—” Kedrigern began, stopping short when Princess tugged hard at his sleeve and looked at him irately. Recalling his promise to her, he winked and went on, “—over to see him sometime in the fall. Before the first snow. He can count on me.”

  “By then, all of Castle Grodzik will be eaten. You must come now, or we are lost, my master says.”

  “I have another commitment and I can’t break it,” Kedrigern said, taking Princess’s hand. “Sorry, but I can’t make it before the fall.”

  “My master will be disappointed,” said the messenger, and there was a discernible quaver in his voice.

  “It can’t be helped.”

  “Prince Grodz has planned a great festival in your honor.”

  “Oh?” said Princess.

  The messenger’s words came out in a rush. “Feasting and dancing and the finest wines. Beautiful clever maids and handsome brave men, all of the very best and oldest families, all eager to praise you and drink your health. Sweet music and tasty delicacies at all hours—you need only request. Your lovely wife is, of course, to accompany you. My master would insist upon it, out of his great respect for the institution of marriage and the joy he takes at the sight of a happy union. The entire west wing of Castle Grodzik at your disposal, hosts of servants to obey your every command, stay as long as you wish. A generous fee. Plus a silver piece for each dead rat.”

  “I do not accept payment by the rat,” Kedrigern said indignantly.

  “My master will pay any way you wish. Only come and help us, I beg you,” the messenger said.

  Princess squeezed Kedrigern’s hand. He turned, and at the sight of her expectant smile, he nodded. “We will pack tomorrow and leave for Castle Grodzik the following morning. You may tell Prince Grodz to expect us,” she informed the messenger.

  “Oh, thank you, gracious lady, most lovely lady, thank you, thank you!” the messenger said, faling into a fit of bowing, and the air of the room was soon filed with dust from the sweeping flourishes of his hat and cloak. Still bowing and babbling his gratitude, he backed out the door, ran to his waiting black horse, and rode off to bring the news to his master.

  Kedrigern was silent and thoughtful at dinner, and all through the evening. Princess was so excited by the prospect of society that she kept a lively conversation going with no need of assistance. It was not until the following evening, when dinner was over and the packing almost complete, that she became aware of Kedrigern’s reflective mood.
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  “Cheer up, Keddie,” she said, sitting beside him and taking his hand in hers. “I know how you feel about travel, journeying, and peregrination. But you need to meet some new people. You’ll enjoy yourself this time.”

  “It’s not the travel. It’s Grodz.”

  “The poor man needs you. Think of all those awful rats nibbling away at his castle.”

  “The rat that worries me is Grodz. I’ve heard some very unpleasant things about Prince Grodz of Grodzik.”

  “What have you heard?”

  “They’re only rumors, mind you, but one can’t be too careful. He’s said to be extremely cruel, and he has a reputation as a colossal lecher. Always trying to seduce other men’s wives, they say. I really don’t like the idea of bringing you to a place—”

  “Keddie, you gave your word, pledge, avouchment, and assurance.”

  “I know, I know. But still…”

  “Do you really think I could be seduced by a prince? A mere prince, when I’m the wife of a wizard with royal blood?”

  “Well… there could be danger.”

  “Nothing you couldn’t handle.”

  He pondered for a moment, and at last, judiciously, he said, “No. No, there shouldn’t be any problem. I’m worrying needlessly, I suppose. Grodz will turn out to be a charming host, and we’ll have a wonderful time.”

  “Feasting and dancing and scintillating company… lovely surroundings… brilliant conversation… I’m sure we won’t have a moment to ourselves, but I think I’ll bring a few books just the same.”

  “Always a good idea,” Kedrigern said crisply. “You’ve made impressive progress with your vocabulary builder. How have you done with Enchantment For Beginners?”

  “Oh, I finished that long ago.”

  “Good. And A Handy Book Of Basic Spells?”

  “Practically commited to memory. I’m having some difficulty remembering the basic invisibility spell, but I have the others almost by heart.”

  “Very good, my dear,” Kedrigern said, taking his wife’s hand in his. “The thing to do is master the basics. Get those spells down pat, and you can’t go wrong.”

  “They’re hard, Keddie.”

  “I know they are. Many a wizardly reputation is based on mastery of one or two of them, and oblivious ignorance of the rest. But you mustn’t settle for that. Have you looked into Spells For Every Occasion?”

  “Yes, I’ve… looked through it,” she said uncomfortably. After an awkward silence, she blurted, “Most of the words are unpronounceable! It hurts just to try to form my mouth for them.”

  “Keep practicing. It’s very good for the jaw muscles. And even though it may seem difficult, you do have a natural talent.”

  “Thank you, Keddie,” she said, patting his hand and then rising. “We’d better finish packing. We want to make an early start, outset, and departure in the morning.”

  Kedrigern sighed and hauled himself wearily to his feet. He wished there existed some wondrous spell that would pack one’s clothes, books, and minor necessaries in an instant, and leave no essential item behind. There was not. He set to work.

  Thirteen

  the hoppy prince

  The weather was mild and the journey uneventful. To Princess, who was delighted simply to be somewhere other than the cottage on Silent Thunder Mountain, it was nevertheless very exciting. To Kedrigern, the lack of incident was a blessed relief. In the wizard’s mind, travel invariably meant unpleasant surprises and unnecessary confusion; one met new people and had new experiences, all of them nasty.

  One was always swindled while traveling. The currency changed from place to place, and everyone insisted that the local coinage was worth more than anyone else’s, and charged accordingly. Distances were never certain, and asking directions was foly, since no two districts followed the same system of noting measurements. Drinks were of different sizes, and had funny names, besides; one could never be sure whether one was getting a bucketful of wine or a thimbleful of ale. The only safe rule seemed to be “the better the beverage, the smaller the portion.” Food was awful. Beds were hard, lumpy, and filed with tiny living things that had appetites like wolves. The towels were always gray and scratchy, if towels were provided at all, which they usually were not because there was nowhere to wash and if there was the water was cold and greasy. All things considered, Kedrigern hated travel.

  This trip, though, was only moderately horrendous, and Princess’s obvious pleasure helped make it almost endurable. They arrived at the gates of Castle Grodzik one dusty afternoon little the worse for their journey, and were admitted by a gatekeeper with a wooden leg. They proceeded to the castle entrance, where their baggage was taken by scurrying men, all of whom lacked an ear, an eye, or a few fingers. A limping stable boy led their horses off just as an elderly, distinguished-looking man in black emerged from the castle to greet them. He was missing one hand.

  “Greetings to the illustrious wizard Kedrigern and to the beautiful Princess,” he said. “I am Banderskeede, High Steward of Prince Grodz. I welcome you in his name. Did you have a pleasant journey?”

  “Pleasant enough,” Kedrigern said. He was already starting to feel homesick.

  Princess, pinching his arm, smiled brightly and said, “It was a succession of memorable moments, Banderskeede. Marvelous weather, and the scenery was gorgeous, imposing, and picturesque.”

  “The prince will be pleased to hear that. I will convey your satisfaction to him.”

  “Will we meet Prince Grodz?”

  “The prince is occupied with affairs of state at the moment, my lady, but he requests the honor of your company at a private supper this evening.”

  “We’ll be delighted,” Princess said.

  Banderskeede led them down broad corridors and up elaborate staircases to their quarters in the west wing. Their bedroom was the size of a very large inn. The ornate canopied bed that stood against one paneled wall could have accommodated twelve restless sleepers in comfort. Rich tapestries decked the walls. The furnishings, though few, were exquisite.

  “Is this satisfactory?” Banderskeede asked, ducking his head respectfully and rubbing his stump.

  “It will do nicely,” said Kedrigern.

  Princess pinched him again, harder. “It’s lovely! You must tell Prince Grodz that we’re overwhelmed by his graciousness, exquisite taste, and generosity,” she said.

  “I shall do so, my lady,” said Banderskeede, bowing and backing from the room.

  When the servants had brought their luggage, unpacked, and arranged everything to Princess’s satisfaction, she dismissed them. Once they had limped and shuffled their way out, she made a slow circuit of the room, examining everything,lookinginto corners and behind tapestries, emitting little pleased sounds at the quality and cleanliness of all she saw. At last she joined Kedrigern on the broad balcony overlooking fields, river, and the distant hills. He was sitting in thoughtful silence, gazing up at the fat fair-weather clouds gently drifting southward.

  “Isn’t it lovely, Keddie? Everything is so beautiful I can hardly believe it,” she said, skipping out onto the balcony in an exuberant mood.

  “The people aren’t so beautiful.”

  “They’re not bad, for peasants.”

  “I didn’t mean that. I’ve never been anyplace where so many people were missing so many bits and pieces. Haven’t you noticed?”

  She thought for a moment. “Maybe they’re just clumsy.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe Grodz really is as cruel as rumor makes him out to be.”

  “No, Keddie, that’s impossible. I mean, look at this room. A man with such impeccable taste could never be cruel.”

  “Good taste and cruelty are not mutually exclusive, my dear. One of the most exquisite pieces of workmanship I ever saw was a headsman’s axe. The executioner had it made to order. It cost him a year’s wages, but he said it was worth it to work with the best materials.”

  “I don’t care about executioners, Keddie. I can see that
Prince Grodz is tasteful, seemly, decorous, genteel, and discriminating. There’s no reason to believe that he’s cruel.”

  Kedrigern did not press the point. They watched the sunset, which was spectacular, and then re-entered their quarters to rest. A fire had been kindled against the chill of the late summer evening, and Princess stretched out on the thick bear-skin in front of the fireplace to read for a time before changing for supper. Kedrigern, a bit restless, took the opportunity to explore the west wing. He saw nothing, and heard nothing, to verify his suspicions, and returned to the bedroom with a petulant air. Something was wrong, he knew, but he could not pin it down. The uncertainty nagged at him like an unidentifiable sound in the night.

  Banderskeede arrived to escort them to the prince’s private apartments. They walked down unfamiliar corridors in procession, with torchbearers before and behind, and Kedrigern was silent until they were ascending the broad staircase that led to Grodz’s rooms—then he realized what had been bothering him.

  He drew closer to Princess and whispered excitedly, “I don’t smell a rat!”

  She turned and stared at him, bewildered by the announcement. “What on earth do you mean, Keddie?”

  “They wanted me to come here because the place was alive with rats, don’t you remember? Well, have you seen, or heard, or smelt any sign of rats?”

  “Maybe they left.”

  “Then why weren’t the people celebrating? I haven’t seen anyone who looks happy.”

  “Would you look happy if you’d been through a plague of magic rats?” she whispered.

  That was a point worth considering. He grunted, frowned, and said no more for a time. But the absence of rats still troubled him.

  Another thought occurred to him, and he whispered to Princess once again.

  “What about the big festival? I don’t see any sign of other guests. I tell you, my dear, something’s wrong here.”

  “How can they have a festival until you get rid of the rats?”

  “But there aren’t any rats!”

  “Of course there are, Keddie. Don’t be so suspicious.”

  “Then why haven’t we seen any trace of them?”