In a fate worse than death, he thought. Like the old woman who had become possessed by Inoldia's spirit. Or like Maldus, whatever 'neutralized' ultimately meant.
Valarion stared at the papers again, rubbed his eyes, and summoned the head servant. “Can you organize a party for tonight? I want to celebrate the first flight of the airship.”
That evening, he put on a jovial act, laughing with everyone at his own jokes. The guests were all thrilled about the airship and seemed for the moment more in awe of him as its rider than they were of his imperial status. They listened raptly as he described every embellished detail.
No one queried about Maldus. In Rome, a rag merchant goes missing and it's the talk of Victory Square. A high official goes missing, and people pretend not to notice, lest they go missing too.
The evening wore on and the guests departed. However, a young and attractive lady lingered to chat and while conducting her on a tour of the palace, Valarion blundered them into the very chamber where Hadron had been assassinated. The bedding, Valarion noted, had been changed.
He was only half there and that half was drunk, but he managed to light the lanterns without scorching his fingers. As he flopped on the rose-scented sheets she descended gracefully alongside, smiled worshipfully in the soft illumination, and told him he was wonderful. His mood brightened.
Then she caressed his chest and tenderly asked, “What is it like to be the ruler of Rome?”
The gloom descended again, and he muttered, “I wish I knew.”
15.
The inn of John Pine's sister and brother-in-law was strategically located in the middle of the Land of the Trolls, according to the rectified photo-map that Matt had provided Carrot's exploration team. It was a two story affair of white plaster and glass windows nestled amid the shade of trees a short trail off the main road. The front of the building faced the road, but the travelers were led around back to the rear entrance. They were, after all, human.
“Now,” John said. “We're going to have to do this right if this is going to be done at all. Carrot, I know that it is as humiliating for a human as it is for a Henogalian, but henceforth you'll have to wear a collar at all times. Is that all right?”
She closed her eyes and bowed. John opened his backpack and handed her the collar. Other than being something that belonged on a dog, it was rather nice: interwoven strands of fabric that felt soft to her neck, dyed with a pink diamond pattern against a black background, cinched by a polished metal buckle, like a small belt. She adjusted the fit, attached the leash and bowed again.
“Very good,” John said. He nodded to Norian and Mirian. “For now, you two should hide in the woods out of scenting range. Being in the presence of five humans, two unleashed, is unnerving enough for any person and my brother-in-law is leery of humans as it is.”
Carrot noted the select usage of the word 'person.'
Once Norian and Mirian had departed, Bob blurted: “John! That little one with the arrows, she was standing right here and I could barely scent her! Don't you find that, well, creepy?”
“I think she can still hear you, Bob. Now stay with Carrot and our clients while I get Paul and Susan.”
Bob's eyes widened as he cast glances down the trail where Norian and Mirian had entered into the deeper woods. For a moment, Carrot was mesmerized by his fingers, massive as rolling pins, which he was fidgeting above her eye level. She was very mindful of how small her neck was in comparison. She felt naked without a single dagger on her person, but so far the trolls had seemed harmless, and she especially wanted to make a good impression with her prospective hosts, and carrying concealed weapons often backfires that way.
Carrot faced the other humans, Trak and Sten, whom she'd learned over the course of the previous day's travels were merchants. “So from here you go on to see the King.”
“Yes,” Trak replied.
“To see about a license to sell your dishes and other wares.”
“Yes.”
Trak had become recessive ever since the campfire the night before, when he'd asked how they had entered Henogal without having to cross the bridge and acquire sponsors, and Mirian had proudly proclaimed that they had flown above the 'Monstrous Hedge.' Trak could not have lived in 'Human Britan' without hearing tales of the flying ship, but he had not seen it personally and he was dubious. That skepticism apparently had caused him to question his initial acceptance of Carrot's queen-ship
In his taciturn expression, Carrot thought she could read: I don't know what you are, except perhaps trouble. And how could she argue? Fortunately, John seemed to hold to the philosophy that fair silver covers a multitude of sins, and so they had continued in his company.
Carrot trained her ears toward the inn. She heard low troll voices. It sounded like a barely contained argument. She shifted from foot to foot, ran a finger along the interior of the collar. Bob, who was swinging the other end of the leash absent-mindedly, mumbled, “Doesn't sound like they'll have you.”
What would her party do then? They had spent so much time in traveling here, and Matt was probably already on the Other Side of the world by now. I should have gone with him, Carrot thought. But she was certain that her team was on the trail of the Box of Britan. It was Matt's quest whose worth was open to question, though she would never dare say that to his face.
After a few minutes, the voices calmed, though they hardly sounded happy. John emerged with two middle-aged trolls, male and female. Carrot thought they looked rather pleasant, as far as her experience with trolls went, but the male troll reacted to the sight of her with a scowl and the female troll looked worried and writhed her hands.
John waved toward Carrot. “Paul and Susan, this is Carrot. Carrot, this is Paul and Susan Apple, my brother-in-law and sister.”
Carrot bowed deeply. Scowls and writhing were the only response.
John addressed the troll couple: “You can see she won't take up much room and I've found her very agreeable. She has silver to pay room and board, and she's volunteered to do chores.”
Paul's voice was flat: “Let's see the silver.”
Carrot opened the bag and displayed the coins.
“It's the right color,” Paul said. He picked up a coin and bit. “Tastes right, too.”
John pasted on a smile. “Then it's settled?”
“Didn't say that. Susan, what do you think?”
“Humans have a reputation for violence,” Susan said. “I just don't know. Paul, you decide.”
“Violence,” Paul said. “Yes. We hear of their wars all the time. I question the King's sanity in even allowing a few into the realm. I don't know how you talked me into accepting a sponsor license, John, but I've a mind to tear it up right now.”
John chuckled. “Look at her, you two! She's hardly more than a stalk of grass and you're going on as if she's got an army on call!”
Bob glanced at Carrot. Carrot glanced at Bob. They had agreed there would be no mention of the complication that she was a 'queen' who had led an army in battle, but it was evident that John was certainly one for ironic hints.
Paul frowned at the bag. “How did a young girl come by so much silver?”
“Inherited it,” John said smoothly and without hesitation. “Legitimately, I assure you. I've fully checked her references.” He had done no such thing. “Now, you two consider. It's the off-season and Susan tells me your funds are short. Here is an opportunity to make some money with very little effort or risk.”
“We risk our whole business,” Paul said, “if our regulars learn we've got a human on the premises.”
“Did I mention she does chores?”
“Many times, but what kind of chores?”
Carrot blurted, “I can sweep. I can gather firewood and make fires. I can wash laundry. I can wash dishes. I can clean – “
Paul glanced at his wife, then back at Carrot. “Can you cook?”
“I – I've never cooked troll dishes, but if you show me – “
“What did you say? What kind of dishes?”
Carrot felt as if she had stepped into something deep and squishy. “I meant, Henogalian cookery. I am unfamiliar with it, but I have cooked many human meals, and surely the methods are the same if not the food itself.”
Paul sighed. At first Carrot thought that he was going to reject her but then she noticed that he was still holding the haddie – and tightly at that. He sighed again and made a swinging motion with his arm, as if to toss the coin back into the bag. But the silver never left his hand.
“Well, Susan,” he said at last. “You have said that you need help.”
Susan's hands had stopped wringing. She scrutinized Carrot and nodded. “She doesn't seem like she would be the kind to hurt people. John, you do vouch for her?”
“On my honor, dear sister. And as I said, I'll be back to pick her up shortly.”
The deal was swiftly concluded. Carrot would stay at the inn for a silver coin a day. For all the dickering, Carrot was surprised that Paul settled for what was a fairly reasonable price. She dropped the first coin into his hand, bade goodbye to John and his companions, and walked to the inn following Paul, who had taken her leash.
Facing forward, Paul said, “I don't know how it is with humans, but I would assume 'Carrot' is your last name. Do you have a first then?”
“Arcadia, sir.” Her response was spontaneous, but she'd already started to wonder whether 'Carrot' was raising too many eyebrows to be safe in mentioning.
“A lot of womenfolk named 'Arcadia' in the north. 'Arcadia Carrot.' So your name is of the People, at least.”
Carrot had never before heard of another 'Arcadia' in all of the Yuro Archipelago, and tucked in memory the thought that his remark might be a thing to ask about later.
He opened the door and let his wife enter first. Then he motioned Carrot inside. They were in a kitchen. Susan went to a table and chopped ingredients for a simmering pot. Paul tied Carrot's leash around a post – a symbolic gesture, for even a dog could unravel it – and directed her to a sink full of dirty cooking and eating implements.
Having worked in the household of the Chief Scientist of Rome, she was cosmopolitan enough to recognize the faucet spigot, and she grasped that she would not have to fetch water from a well. Yet she said to Paul, “I'll need to make the water hot, so shall I gather wood and set another fire?”
He reached over to the faucet, and she noticed for the first time that there were two water valves. He twisted the left one and said, “Water's already hot.”
In disbelief, she touched the stream emitted from the spigot – and quickly retracted her fingers. It was scalding! “How is this done? That is, how is the water heated?”
“A sun box on the roof. Now if you have no more questions of a technical nature, I shall tend to the customers.”
Perched upon a stool, Carrot filled the sink with water. Sun box, she thought. She would like to see that! Surely Archimedes would like to see that!
She filled the sink with the unwashed dishes, puzzling at the eating implements. What was this thing with three prongs? Revelation struck: it could hold down food while cutting with a knife, in place of having to grasp the food with one's hands!
“You need to use the soap,” Susan said.
“Sorry?”
“Dish-washing soap. It's in the can there.”
“Oh. Yes.” They'd had dish-washing soap in Rome. Mola had allowed only herself to pour it, as she said it was 'at a premium.' Here was Susan, nodding Carrot to ladle it on her own.
“Just one scoop.”
“Yes.”
Carrot set to scrubbing, but Susan said, “Gloves.”
“Sorry?”
“Gloves for your hands. There's a child's pair under the sink. They should fit.”
They were made of a supple material, similar to one that Archimedes had used in some of his projects. 'Rubber,' he'd called it. Carrot put on the gloves, then gingerly put her hands under the water. To her amazement, the water still felt warm but no longer scalded.
Carrot worked diligently, reveling in the sense of calm and well-being that chores always brought. If she had to explain her feelings, it was that household chores made her feel as if she were a part of normal humanity. Though how well that applied while working alongside a towering matron whose apron strings were at eye-level . . . .
As the morning wore on, the 'security procedures' became increasingly lax. Paul tired of watching Carrot sweep, handed her the other end of the leash, and said, “Look after yourself, all right?”
She was allowed outside to do laundry, and Paul wandered off. She found him later at a wood pile.
“Let's see you chop,” he said, handing her the ax.
She split the logs and stacked them. Paul gathered the wood into bundles. He scooped one bundle for himself and directed Carrot to take the other.
“You're stronger than you look,” he said. “Almost as strong as a normal person.”
Carrot gritted a smile as she softly groaned under the load. “Thank you, sir.”
“Call me Paul.”
“Yes, Paul.”
“Well, it's about lunch time. Let's see what the missus has.”
Carrot wondered what a 'missus' was. They returned to the kitchen and set the bundles by the hearth. From the other room came the murmur of troll voices; Carrot scented half a dozen males.
Susan was pouring soup and said, “My, we never have this many this early. Arcadia, can you set the trays and bowls?”
“Do you think that's wise?” Paul asked. “After all, the plague came from Human Britan.”
“Arcadia is obviously in fine health and the plague is long over. No more talk of the plague.”
Susan slammed empty trays onto the table. Managing three full trays at once, she briskly glided into the dining room. Mindful that something had transpired between the two, Carrot quietly poured soup.
“She always gets bossy around meal time,” Paul muttered. He shrugged. “I suppose it has to be.”
He slurped his soup. Seeing that they were alone and it was quiet, Carrot sought for a neutral conversational topic.
“Paul, I am curious about the sun box.”
“Well, contrary to what humans may think, it doesn't have a sun inside.”
“How does it work?”
“Just a box that is black within, with glass on top. The sun's rays shine through the glass, and when they hit the sides, they are changed so that they can't escape, and so they heat the water instead. That's all.”
“Still that is amazing.” Don't use the word 'troll!' “Henogalians seem so inventive.”
“Young lady, you are buttering me up.”
“Sorry?”
“It means you are giving me compliments that I don't deserve. Henogalians may have invented many things, but truth is, we have the Wizard to thank. The First Wizard, that is.”
Carrot nearly plunked the ladle into the broth. He was here. “The First Wizard?”
Susan breezed back with empty platters. “More are coming! Do you know what's causing the surge? Talk of a ship that sails through the sky! Taverns always fill when there's news. Yet of all things! Now, Arcadia, cut the bread. Wash your hands first! Do they wash hands in Human Britan?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Call me Susan. And Paul, show her how to pour the beer. There has to be foam!”
The beer that flowed from the wall tap wasn't just cool, it was positively cold. How do they do that?
The rumble of conversation died by mid-afternoon. Susan busied herself cleaning the main room, then returned to inspect Carrot's work in the kitchen. “Arcadia, this is gleaming! Don't you think, Paul?”
“Yep,” Paul said without looking up from the large sheets of press-printed paper that he was reading.
“Arcadia,” Susan said. “Your clothes are for traveling, are they not? We do have some clothing that may fit more comfortably. Shall we try something on?”
Arcadia/Carrot compliantly
followed Susan upstairs. They entered a room that would have been cozy even by human standards. The sole furnishings were a bed, a chair, and a chest, and all were covered with a few month's dust. Susan flung open the chest and held up a dress with floral prints and frills.
“What do you think?” Susan asked.
“Oh, I could never wear that. It's too pretty.”
“This dress has been in the chest for ages now. If you don't wear it, no one will. Let's try it on, shall we?”
The fit was almost snug. Susan motioned to the mirror. Carrot examined herself, but before she could form an opinion, she noticed that the mirror was barely taller than she was – certainly not tall enough for a normal sized troll. The bed, she realized, was also human-sized.
“You have a daughter,” she said.
“Had,” Susan replied. After a pause, she said, “Shall we see what Paul thinks?”
Paul glared over his newspaper. “Susan, I – “ his words trailed off with her sharp return glare. “Well, it should be put to use, I suppose.”
Susan placed arms akimbo. “You're reading the paper, so I take it the outer chores are done?”
“Yes, dear.”
“I was going to rest a spell. So what shall we do with Arcadia?”
Carrot lightly coughed for attention. “Would it be possible to go for a walk? I see that you are busy, Paul, so perhaps I could walk by myself? I promise not to be seen.”
“You want to meet with your friends,” Paul said.
Carrot backstepped.
“It's not hard to figure,” Paul said. “I've been in the inn-keeping business my whole life, and maybe once in years do I see a woman traveling alone. Well, we have food and you have silver, so perhaps a deal can be made to share leftovers with your friends. Always happy to feed extra mouths, for a price.”
A minute later, Carrot stole out the back, slipping down the trail that she'd seen Norian and Mirian take. It wasn't hard to follow their scent – Norian's, at least – and Mirian had carved a minute 'NM' in tree trunks whenever the trail came to a fork.
The Witches of Ne'arth (The Star Wizards Trilogy Book 2) Page 31
