Castle Hangnail

by Ursula Vernon

  Majordomo came in just as the bodyguard said, “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

  Angus leaned forward and snorted, a full bull’s snort.

  “You’re just some jumped-up cow,” said the bodyguard. “My Mistress’ll have you ground into hamburger if you don’t leave off.”

  “Oh no, no, no . . .” muttered Majordomo.

  Angus scraped a hoof along the ground, just for a few inches.

  “Excuse me!” called Majordomo, hurrying down the stairs. “Your room is ready now, sir!”

  Angus rumbled something under his breath. The bodyguard sneered and slouched up the stairs.

  “Now, what happened here?” asked Majordomo. He hurried to where Sir Edward lay in multiple pieces on the ground. “Oh dear! He hates it when this happens—last time we got his elbows mixed up and he kept hitting himself in the face when he tried to wave—oh dear—”

  “I’m not sure,” Angus admitted. “I came in just as he was knocking Edward over. I wanted to knock him over, but I suppose it’s not for the best right now.”

  “Oh, dear . . .”

  They got the suit of armor spread out over the floor. Majordomo rolled the helmet back onto the shoulders, taking care to get the bits of chain mail inside the neck all tucked back down into the body. “Edward? Edward!”

  The suit’s visor fluttered. “Major . . . ?” asked Edward. “What . . . oh . . . Oh!” The bits of armor began shivering and rocking with agitation. “You have to stop him!”

  “Stop who? Quit wiggling, I nearly dropped your knee plate . . .”

  “That awful man! He was defacing Miss Handlebram! We can’t allow that sort of thing to go on!”

  Majordomo and Angus turned and looked at the block of ice. Someone—presumably the bodyguard—had chipped a handlebar mustache into the ice over Miss Handlebram’s face, and had been working on writing “Gordon Wuz Here” on the side.

  “I tried to stop him,” said Edward. “But I don’t have my sword. Why can’t I find my sword? It was just here a moment ago . . .”

  “It’s all right,” said Majordomo, patting Edward’s shoulder plate. “We’ll find it. And I suppose we just—just have to accept that some of the Mistress’s retainers are . . . um . . . uncouth. But we’ll adapt.”

  “But it’s Miss Handlebram,” said Edward, sounding bewildered. “We can’t let them do that. Not to her.”

  “Those men aren’t real minions,” said Angus. “You can’t tell me they’re part of the Minion’s Guild. I won’t believe it. It’s a disgrace, having non-minions doing minion jobs.”

  “I’ll speak to the Mistress tomorrow,” said Majordomo. “I’m sure we can get this all sorted out then.”

  Angus leaned down, got both arms around Edward’s breast plate, and set the armor on his feet. Edward rocked uncertainly, checked both knees and his elbows, and then nodded.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “All together. All in the right place—except—”

  His gauntlet went to his neck. The slits in his visor went blank.

  “The Imperial Squid,” he said. “The one Molly gave me. It’s gone.”

  Chapter 35

  They searched the Great Hall high and low, but the Squid was truly lost. “First Molly, now the coin,” Pins said glumly. “What’s next?”

  “She hasn’t turned up, then?” asked Edward. They had found his sword stashed in the umbrella stand and he was clutching the hilt tightly. He looked less like the armor of a mighty warrior and more like a small child with a security blanket.

  “Goldfish hasn’t seen anything,” said Pins. “She’s been watching all night. And nobody’s seen Bugbane either, so he must have gone off with her.”

  He sighed and drew himself to his full height, which was about halfway up Edward’s shin. “We should all get some sleep. I imagine tomorrow will be quite a day.”

  And it was.

  Eudaimonia slept late, that was about the best thing you could say. Everyone got an extra few hours of sleep. They needed it, because the minute she woke up, she began making demands.

  “One egg,” she said. “Lightly poached. Three stalks of asparagus. White toast.”

  “Not having asparagus,” said Cook. “Is being wrong season for asparagus.”

  “Can you find some?” asked Majordomo. “Perhaps frozen asparagus—?”

  Cook gazed at him as if he had just asked her to do something indecent.

  “Quite right,” said Majordomo, “don’t know what I was thinking. I shall inform the Sorceress.”

  The Sorceress took this news by throwing a poached egg at his head. Fortunately Majordomo had dealt with this sort of thing before—Ungo the Mad had been able to hurl a test tube with pinpoint accuracy—and ducked. The egg splattered against the wall and leaked yellow yolk down the wall.

  “Very well,” said Eudaimonia, as if she had not just thrown an egg at his head. “How does the renovation of the guest bedrooms proceed?”

  “Pins is working on the curtains now, Mistress. He shall bring the colors to you for approval this afternoon.”

  “Good,” she said. “I shall wish to throw a masked ball soon, to celebrate my investiture. The castle must be ready by then.”

  Majordomo winced. “Err . . . how soon, Mistress?”

  She tapped one blue nail on her knee. She was wearing a dressing gown of blue silk the color of frozen cornflowers. “I was thinking next Saturday.”

  Majordomo did some quick mental calculations about how much labor would be required to rebuild the castle and refurbish the guest rooms by next Saturday. The numbers began to rise alarmingly and he had to carry the one multiple times. “Saturday?” he asked.

  “Is there a problem with Saturday?” asked Eudaimonia, taking a delicate bite of toast.

  “Errrr. Perhaps, Mistress, you would consider a date with more . . . ah . . . occult significance?”

  A thin line appeared between her eyebrows. “Such as?”

  “All Hallows’ Eve is an excellent date,” said Majordomo. “Very—erm—Witchy. Not like Saturday. No one bars the church doors and lights the lanterns to drive off the Evil forces of Saturday.”

  And All Hallows’ Eve is also three or four months off, he thought, and we might have some chance of having things ready then.

  “There is something to what you say,” said Eudaimonia, “but All Hallows’ Eve is much too far off.”

  “Autumnal Equinox?” asked Majordomo hopefully. “Very occult, your equinoxes.”

  “Lugnasadh,” said Eudaimonia (and to her credit, she pronounced this very alarming-looking word correctly, Loo-nas-uh). “August Eve. The first of the harvest festivals. Farther off than I would like, but it shall give us time to make a few embellishments.”

  Majordomo gritted his teeth. It wasn’t much time, but it was better than next Saturday.

  Eudaimonia smiled. That is to say, her lips curved up and her eyes sparkled, but it was the sparkle of sunlight on ice. “That is a fine idea,” she said. “Thank you, minion.”

  Majordomo felt a flush of gratification, despite his panic.

  “You understand, Mistress—we will do our best, but things have been in poor repair—we have not had a proper Master in a long time.”

  “I can certainly see that,” said Eudaimonia. “Dear little Molly! So young. Such a silly prank to pull.”

  Silly, thought Majordomo grimly. Yes. Silly would be one word for it.

  “I’m amazed she managed to do any magic here at all.”

  “Nothing of consequence,” said Majordomo. “Things with bats and plants.” Basic honesty forced him to add, “And she summoned her shadow to chase off a rather bad man.”

  Eudaimonia looked up, startled. Majordomo realized that he’d been praising the old Master to the new one and hurriedly said, “Nothing important.”

  “Y
es . . . shadows. Not important.” Her laugh sounded a bit forced. She tapped her wand against her knee. “Send her up, will you? I shall speak to her this morning. Make sure that there are no misunderstandings.”

  “I don’t think there will be any more misunderstandings with Molly,” said Majordomo. “I’m afraid she has left the premises.”

  Eudaimonia halted in mid-stretch. “What?”

  “She left a note,” said Majordomo. “She was returning home. I believe—ah—she was rather attached to Castle Hangnail, you understand . . .” He trailed off.

  “Dear Molly always was sentimental,” said the Sorceress. “The type to cry all night over an injured spider instead of swatting it with a shoe. Well.” She frowned. “You’re quite certain she’s gone?”

  “We have been unable to locate her,” said Majordomo cautiously.

  “How vexing.” Eudaimonia drummed her blue nails on the bedpost. Almost under her breath, clearly to herself, she added, “I can’t believe she remembered the shadow spell . . .” There was a fine line between her eyes. “Very well! See that I am not disturbed for at least an hour.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” said Majordomo, bowing. He shut the door behind him. The two bodyguards sneered at him, and behind the closed door, he could hear the sounds of chanting.

  Chapter 36

  I don’t understand,” said Serenissima. “A girl like that can’t just disappear.”

  “Of course she can,” said Angus. “If she holds her breath, that’s exactly what she can do. I imagine she snuck out last night.” He sighed heavily and flexed his hooves. “I hope she’s okay.”

  Cook stomped across the kitchen.

  “Cook,” said Majordomo from the doorway.

  “What?”

  “I was going to ask if you could make a sandwich—”

  The Minotaur snorted. “Cheese and crackers on table. No sandwiches.”

  She stormed out the door.

  Majordomo sighed heavily and began slicing cheese to put on crackers. “Do you think she’s mad at me?”

  “Gee,” said Pins, “what was your first clue?”

  It was a hectic afternoon. Majordomo ran back and forth, bringing the Sorceress spell-components and assuring her that yes, the redecorating was going just swimmingly, it would doubtless be done in no time. (Pins was still sewing curtains and said only, “If she wants it done faster, she will have to do it herself.” Majordomo decided not to pass this along.)

  The first serious crisis came when Eudaimonia decided to check on the redecoration herself.

  “Um,” said Majordomo. “Well, nothing is hung yet, Mistress. We’re still—err—taking measurements—”

  “Indeed,” said the Sorceress. “Did I not give this order yesterday?”

  “We have a very small staff at present,” said Majordomo. “A full redecoration of the guest suites is somewhat beyond our manpower—”

  She swept past him. “Show me.”

  The guest rooms were worse by daylight than by night. The light through the windows was unforgiving. While Serenissima steamed each room faithfully, there was nothing that could be done about the cracked paint or the worn carpets.

  He expected Eudaimonia to say something cutting, but she merely pressed her lips together tightly and her face grew more and more pinched with every room.

  This was much more alarming than insults.

  When he closed the door to the last room—and it wasn’t Serenissima’s fault, really, but all that steam hadn’t been kind to the wallpaper, which was bubbling rather oddly and starting to peel off in broad strips—the Sorceress folded her arms. “I see that nothing has been accomplished. Bring me the servants responsible.”

  “Servant,” said Majordomo. “Err. Singular.”

  Eudaimonia slapped her wand into her free hand. It made a small, dangerous sound. “Bring him to me, then. Now.”

  • • •

  Pins was not happy to be dragged from his sewing room. “You can’t tell me that she really expected the whole thing to be done today!”

  “I think she expected us to start it,” said Majordomo. “Perhaps we should have hung some curtains—something to show we were making an effort.” He sighed. “And she likely expects that we have a bigger staff than we do. I don’t think she realizes yet that there’s only the six of us. And your goldfish, of course.”

  “She had best leave my goldfish out of this!”

  “She hasn’t mentioned your goldfish.”

  He pushed the door to Eudaimonia’s room open and let Pins walk inside.

  “You wished to see me, ma’am?” said Pins. (Not Mistress, Majordomo noted.)

  Eudaimonia opened her mouth, looked down, saw Pins, and whatever she was saying died on her lips.

  “You?” she said. “What are you?”

  “My name is Pins,” said the doll, executing a small bow. “I do all the sewing and mending for Castle Hangnail.”

  “You! You made that marvelous coat for Molly!” Eudaimonia clasped her hands together.

  Pins nodded warily.

  Eudaimonia snaked out a hand and caught Pins by the fabric at the back of his neck, holding him aloft like a kitten. Her sharp blue nails dug into the burlap. Majordomo winced.

  Pins folded his arms and gave the Sorceress a level look.

  “What are you? How did you come to exist?”

  “That’s a bit personal, don’t you think? Ma’am.”

  Majordomo expected Eudaimonia to say something rude, or worse, to throw Pins across the room the way she’d thrown the poached egg, but the Sorceress laughed and set the doll down again. “How fascinating! I must certainly discover what makes you tick.”

  “I do not tick,” said Pins with dignity. “If you want something that ticks, the Clockwork Bees live in the basement.”

  “Do they? I see that I am overdue for a tour of the grounds.” She tapped her wand against her hand again. “And you, Pins—you must certainly prepare a new wardrobe for me at once!” She flicked the edge of her ice-blue robe. “I will require a coat, I think—like the one you made Molly, but in the proper colors. And of course, it will be much easier to work with a figure like mine, don’t you think?”

  Pins twisted one of the needles in his scalp and made a noncommittal noise.

  Majordomo hurried forward. “Perhaps . . . err . . . you would like a tour of the grounds now, Mistress?”

  “I think so,” she said. “Yes. And then have the staff ready in the Great Hall when we have finished, so that they may meet their new Mistress.”

  “Certainly, Mistress,” said Majordomo.

  Chapter 37

  The tour went badly.

  Majordomo started with the library, in hopes of putting Eudaimonia in a good mood. And she did seem to be pleased with the shelves of books and the candles and the comfortable chairs.

  “Shabby chic,” she said. “It will do. One can hardly ever go wrong with walls of bookcases, can one?”

  Unfortunately, it went downhill from there.

  The short tower with its moat intrigued her, but she was less than pleased it was not accessible. “Have the causeway rebuilt,” she said. “The moat will need water lilies, and perhaps a sea serpent.”

  “Um,” said Majordomo. Sea serpents were very expensive, and building a causeway even more so. The moat was only about three feet deep, but the mud underneath went down a long way. “I shall add it to the list of required renovations, Mistress?”

  And then she smiled at him and said, “I should certainly be lost without you, Majordomo!” and he promised himself that there would be a causeway if he had to lay every stone himself.

  Eudaimonia had no interest in the kitchens or the stables (Majordomo breathed a sigh of relief), but the sight of the south lawn annoyed her. “Gardens,” she said. “Formal ones. With a hedge maze, I think. Perhaps some ma
n-eating plants.”

  “I am afraid this climate is not really suitable for man-eating plants, Mistress. Um. If the Mistress would like to step this way, the Clockwork Bees are next . . .”

  They ran into Cook on the way to the Clockwork Bees. Majordomo wrung his hands. “Ah—Cook, this is—no, wait. Mistress Eudaimonia, may I present Cook?”

  Cook towered over even Eudaimonia, although she had to hunch down in the low corridor. She looked down and gave one explosive snort.

  “A Minotaur!” said the Sorceress. “I thought your kind were mostly dead.”

  “Not being dead yet,” said Cook.

  “The quiche last night was quite good,” said Eudaimonia.

  Cook’s horns scraped gently against the ceiling. “Is cooking,” she said. “If is boiling over, is making dinner late.” She pushed past them, turning sideways to avoid touching Eudaimonia.

  Majordomo opened his mouth to apologize, but Eudaimonia gave another little tinkling laugh. “Minotaurs!” she said. “How quaint. Well, you can hardly expect the courtesies from them, can you? I imagine it’s so hard for them to remember all the proper words.”

  She strolled down the hallway. Majordomo dashed a glance over his shoulder, hoping that Cook had not heard.

  • • •

  The second crisis came a few minutes later.

  Cook and Angus waited in the Great Hall. Pins sat on Edward’s shoulder. The knight was guarding the block of ice with Miss Handlebram in it. Serenissima sat on an increasingly soggy sofa and wrung her hands.

  Eudaimonia strode into the room and stopped. She turned back to Majordomo. “I thought I made it clear that the entire staff was to join us?”

  “Um,” said Majordomo. “Yes. Err. This is them.”

  Her gaze fell across the minions like a lash. “This? The entire staff of this castle is two people, two Minotaurs, and an enchanted doll?”

  Angus and Cook stiffened.

  Implying that Minotaurs and Pins aren’t people. Oh dear. Majordomo wrung his hands.