by Terry Brooks
“I guess I still don’t understand what happened,” she finished. “I mean, I still don’t know exactly how I ended up here.”
“Well, I think you just wanted it to be your idea,” he said, giving a shrug to emphasize that it wasn’t all that complicated for him. “I think you wanted to come here on your own terms, and that’s what you did. I also think you did the right thing.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Both for you and for Libiris. Maybe for your father and the Kingdom, too. After all, you’ve stopped the book theft and done something to heal the library so that the demons no longer have a way to escape Abaddon.”
“But His Eminence will already have found out what I’ve done! He’ll put everything back the way it was!” She felt suddenly disheartened. “A week ago, it wouldn’t have mattered. I didn’t even want to be here. Libiris was just an ugly building. But now I know the truth about her. She’s so much more—and she’s in such pain, Thom! I wanted to help her get better, and I thought that by tricking the Throg Monkeys into returning her books I had. But it will all have been for nothing.”
Thom shook his head quickly. “Don’t be too sure of that. He didn’t say much of anything when he caught up with me. He doesn’t necessarily know what you’ve done.”
“Maybe. But he’ll figure it out quickly enough, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. Just don’t give anything away. He’ll try to get you to do that. Make him find it out for himself.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to help him.”
“Tell him he has to let you go. You are a Princess of Landover, and if your father finds out what’s happened, His Eminence won’t be able to run fast enough or far enough. That ought to make him sit up and take notice.” He paused. “Wait a minute! I’ve got a better idea. Tell him your father already knows you’re here!”
“Of course!” she exclaimed, remembering suddenly. “Questor told him! And Father’s on his way here to bring me home!”
“That’s right! He might even get here before sunset today!”
Mistaya looped her bound arms over his head and shoulders and hugged him as hard as she could. “Yes, yes, he might!”
Thom hugged her back instantly, and then as if realizing what they had done, they released each other at the same moment and looked in different directions, eyes lowered.
“Well, that deserved a hug,” she declared finally, looking him in the eye again.
“I thought so,” he agreed, and gave her one of his quirky grins.
They sat together in the small glow of the candle until the tiny flame went out, leaving them in darkness save for a faint wash of sunlight creeping with a thief’s hesitancy under their locked door from the hallway beyond. Time passed with agonizing slowness, and no one came. Mistaya was hungry and tired, but there was no food to eat and sleep was impossible. Instead, she talked with Thom about ways they might escape and things they might do to make His Eminence sorry for what he had done. The conversation helped keep her growing fears at bay—fears that seemed increasingly well founded. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that His Eminence was not going to be intimidated by anything she said. If he was willing to lock them up in the first place, he couldn’t be all that worried about what her father might do.
She spent a goodly amount of time during the silences between exchanges thinking about how she could summon spells that would help them. The problem was that virtually everything she knew how to do required a combination of voice and hands. You had to speak the words and make the signs if the spells were to work. It was a safeguard against accidental summoning and unfortunate consequences. If all that was needed to conjure a spell was a word or two, you might act inadvertently. But if you also needed to gesture, it was less likely that you would make a mistake. Questor had taught her this, explaining that using magic always required measured consideration beforehand.
She wished suddenly that she hadn’t left all her possessions tucked away in her sleeping chamber. She might find something useful in Questor’s book of magic if she could get her hands on it. There were all kinds of spells, incantations, and conjuring in there—maybe even something that didn’t require the use of her hands.
Nor, she realized with a shock, did she have the rainbow crush on her. That, too, was back in her sleeping chamber. She had been so sure she wouldn’t need it, so sure of herself.
Well, maybe Edgewood Dirk would come to rescue her.
Sure, and maybe cows would fly.
She had no idea how long she had sat in the darkness with Thom when she finally heard footsteps outside the storeroom door and the sharp snick of the lock releasing. She sat up straight at once, readying herself for whatever was to come. Beside her, Thom whispered, “Remember. Don’t tell him anything. Don’t let him trick you.”
The door opened and a flood of light spilled through, momentarily blinding her. His Eminence appeared, tall and vaguely spectral, his strange head canted over to one side, as if it were too heavy for his neck. Rufus Pinch followed close on his heels, sour-faced and pale from his illness, apparently determined not to miss out on whatever punishment was to be dispensed to the prisoners.
“Good day, Princess,” His Eminence greeted, beaming down at her. “Good morning, Thom,” he added, nodding to the boy.
“You had better let us go, and right now,” Mistaya snapped, glaring at him as she came to her feet and stood facing him, ignoring the weight of the restraints on her hands.
“Had I?” asked the other, an astonished look crossing his face. “Oh, dear. What will happen if I don’t?”
“My father will find out, that’s what!”
“Well, I certainly hope so.”
“He already knows I’m here, you realize. Questor Thews visited me secretly two days ago, and when he left he …” She caught herself, realizing suddenly what he had said. “You hope so?” She repeated his words back to him, not quite believing she had heard right.
His Eminence held up his hands and patted at the air, glancing at Pinch to share a secret smile before turning back to her. “Let me save you the trouble of puzzling it through. I already know Questor Thews was here. You both thought he got into the building without my knowing, but that is quite impossible. You talked, and he departed. I don’t doubt that in doing so he made you aware of the fact that he would have to report your whereabouts to your father. Am I right?”
She nodded dumbly, not at all liking where this was headed. “He said Father would be coming to get me.” This was not so, but she thought she needed to suggest that there was an urgency to things. “He’s probably already on his way.”
His Eminence looked even happier. “Excellent! Exactly what I was counting on!”
Mistaya stared. “What are you talking about? You hold me prisoner, and you’re telling me you want my father to come here to do something about it?”
“That is not exactly right. I do want him to come, but I do not want him to think you are a prisoner.” He held up one finger, as if lecturing. “In point of fact, if you hadn’t gone into the Stacks against my express orders, there wouldn’t be a reason for you to be a prisoner. But you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Whatever was it that you were doing back there, little Princess?”
She ignored the question. “Why do you want my father to come visit me at all?”
He sighed heavily. “Well, the answer to that question is complicated. Boiled down to its simplest form, it has to do with his position in Landover versus my own. I think his is slightly more elevated than necessary and mine is very much in need of improvement. If he comes to see you, he will of necessity have to see me, and I might be able to persuade him of the need for reassessment.”
“Reassessment?”
“Of our respective positions.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Princess, you had a falling-out with your parents and you ran away from home. Of that much, I am certain. Why you cam
e here, I haven’t a clue. But I view it as a type of divine intervention. Higher powers than those to which I have access have sent you my way. I knew you at once for who you were; surely you realize that now, even if you didn’t before. You are too well known to pretend to be a village working girl. Nor was there any hope that Thom could pass you off as his sister. No, you were Princess Mistaya Holiday, and you were here to help me in my efforts to improve my fortunes and reinvent my future.”
Behind him, Rufus Pinch cleared his throat meaningfully. “Yes, yes, Mr. Pinch, and yours, as well,” Crabbit added wearily.
“I don’t see myself doing much to help you achieve that end,” she snapped at him. “You have made me a prisoner against my will. You have kept Thom in indentured servitude for years, an act that my father would never—”
“I did what?” His Eminence demanded, interrupting her. “Indentured servitude?” He looked sharply at Thom. “Is that what you told her? That I was holding you against your will?”
Mistaya was confused. She looked quickly at Thom, who was clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “I did,” the boy said simply.
“Goodness, no wonder the two of you got caught out! Co-conspirators, and you don’t even trust each other enough to reveal your true identities! Oh, this is really too much! Did she tell you who she is, Thom? She didn’t, did she? And you didn’t tell her who you are, either, did you? I will never understand young people. So, I ask you again, Princess. What was it you were doing back in the Stacks? And please don’t tell me you were looking for a lost piece of family jewelry.”
Mistaya tightened her lips. “I heard someone moaning. I was trying to find out who it was.”
His Eminence and Pinch exchanged another glance. “Someone moaning,” the former repeated. “Did you discover who that someone was?”
She shook her head. “It was too dark to see anything. And there was a wind of some sort that kept pulling at us. We were frightened and turned back.” She hesitated. “But then I went back into the Stacks again last night for another look. I thought I could find a way to get through the wind and the darkness. But I couldn’t.”
His Eminence smiled rather unpleasantly. “After standing toe-to-toe with the Witch of the Deep Fell five years ago and somehow besting her to the extent that she has not been seen since, you failed to find a way to get past some wind and darkness? Really, Princess?”
He came forward until he was standing right in front of her, looming over her like a big tree. “I don’t believe a word of it. I think you know exactly what we are doing here, and I think you have been trying to interfere with our efforts. I don’t know that you have succeeded, but I suspect you have worked some sort of mischief and I intend to find out what it is. Meanwhile, you will stay locked in this storeroom until your father comes to take you home. You and Andjen Thomlinson both. You are not going to be allowed to disrupt my plans further.”
He was grinning so hard that all his teeth were showing, and Mistaya stepped back despite herself.
“Now, I know something of magic, little girl,” the other continued softly. “In fact, I know a great deal more than you do. I have bound up your hands with a spell that you cannot undo without my help. That way, you won’t try something foolish. You and Thom will stay here as my guests for as long as I wish it. Thom owes me continued service under the terms of our bargain and you owe me some days in the stables. I intend to collect from both of you, on that and maybe more. I have a special use for you, Princess, one that requires you remain here awhile longer. Think on that and make of it what you will.”
He wheeled about. “Come along, Mr. Pinch. We are done here. Leave them fresh candles so that they can see each other’s faces while they confess the truths they keep trying to hide.”
Pinch grinned wolfishly at Mistaya and Thom. “You were warned, weren’t you? See what your disobedience has gotten you!”
He dumped a handful of candles on the pallet and followed His Eminence out of the room. The door slammed shut behind them with a bang, and its locks slid into place. The girl and the boy, standing next to each other, were left in blackness once more.
As soon as they were alone, Thom found and lit one of the candles. “What do you think he meant when he said he had a special use for you?”
Mistaya didn’t know, and right at the moment she didn’t particularly care. “Andjen Thomlinson?” she asked, giving him a stony look.
“My given names,” he admitted.
“You knew who I was all along, but after listening to His Eminence, I get the impression that maybe I don’t know everything about you. That doesn’t make me feel very good. It makes me feel a little foolish and a whole lot angry.”
“You have a right to be angry, but I was just protecting myself out of habit.” He sat down on the pallet, looking up at her. “I’ve been hiding my identity now for the entire three years I have been at Libiris. I don’t even think about it anymore. I’m always just Thom, the boy from the village. I’m Thom to everyone.”
She sat down next to him. “But it appears that you are actually someone else.”
Thom nodded. “I am. Thom was the name I took when I came to stay here. I was looking for a place to hide, and His Eminence offered me one. He said no one would ever think to look for me here. We agreed that I would be Thom, a boy from a distant village, come to work off an indenture. I wasn’t making something up on the spur of the moment when I told you that; I was just repeating what I told everyone. Actually, it’s not so far from the truth. I committed myself to serve His Eminence for five years for the privilege of hiding out here. He needed someone to take over the cataloging of the books, and I had the necessary skills.”
He paused. “At least, that’s what I thought when we made our bargain. Now I don’t know why he let me stay. It obviously doesn’t have anything to do with cleaning up the library.”
“You should have told me the truth,” she said quietly. “You should have trusted me.”
He shook his head slowly. “I think so, too, now. But when you first came, I was afraid that telling you the truth would be a very bad mistake. I was afraid it would make you hate me.”
“Why would you think that?” she demanded, suddenly angry all over again. “What did I do or say to make you think I wouldn’t like you if I knew who you were?”
“Nothing It isn’t you. It’s me. It’s the truth about who I am. I’m not some village boy. I came to Libiris to hide after my father died and one of my brothers murdered the other and banished my sisters to various places around the Greensward.”
He paused. “I came here to hide because Berwyn Laphroig is my brother.”
FROGS, DOGS, AND THROGS
“I know you’ve explained it, but I still have a very hard time thinking of The Frog as your brother,” Mistaya said.
She was back to sitting next to him on the pallet, the clouded balls that bound her hands resting in her lap. Food had arrived, finally, and since she couldn’t feed herself, he was helping her by spooning into her mouth small portions of something that was just a notch above gruel on the nutritional meter. She was eating without tasting, her concentration elsewhere ever since His Eminence had departed, leaving behind his latest pronouncement on her fate.
“Well, it does take some getting used to,” he agreed.
“At least he isn’t your real brother. That would be even more difficult to accept.”
“We had different mothers. Really, we’re nothing alike. We share a common father and that’s the extent of it.”
“I wouldn’t ever think you were like him,” she said after a moment of chewing and swallowing. “No one would.”
Thom smiled. “He’s not like anyone, really. He was never interested in being friends with other people. He only wanted one thing from the time he could walk—to be Lord of Rhyndweir.” He paused. “Actually, I think he wants a great deal more than that. That might have something to do with his interest in you.”
She thought about it for a moment. It
made sense. If he married her, he would be her spouse when she took the throne. Took the throne. That sounded so weird. She almost never thought about it. She couldn’t quite make herself believe it would ever be necessary. The idea of her father not being King of Landover was inconceivable. Laphroig wouldn’t think that way though; he would already be anticipating her father’s demise.
“He wouldn’t be satisfied with being married to me unless he could be King, would he?”
“He would want you to bear him a son he could raise as future King while he acted as regent during the child’s minority. That’s how he thinks. You would be a means to an end and not much more.”
“Then he would get rid of me,” she agreed. Thom didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. She accepted another spoonful of whatever it was he was feeding her. “Well, I hate to disappoint him, but none of this is going to happen. I’m not ever marrying The Frog or bearing his child—ugh—or having anything to do with him. Once we get out of here and tell my father what he’s done, we won’t either of us have to worry about him ever again!”
Thom had related the details of his story earlier, laying it all out for her once she had calmed down enough to listen. After his father’s death, he had lasted through the brief reign of his oldest brother, thinking that things at Rhyndweir might actually improve, since his brother was a decided improvement over his intractable and impetuous father. But when his brother had died under circumstances that were decidedly suspicious and his sisters had been shunted off to the farthest corners of the Greensward, he had recognized the writing on the wall. His other brother, who was now the new Lord of Rhyndweir and almost certainly responsible for everything, would soon get around to disposing of him. Telling no one, he departed his home in the dead of night. Once safely away, he resolved to wait things out until he knew which way the wind was blowing. When Berwyn’s wives began dying one after the other, he abandoned any thoughts of returning and resolved to stay away as long as necessary. Shortly after, he reached Libiris, a refuge he had been considering from the first, and convinced His Eminence to let him stay.
