The Idiot King

by Patty Jansen

  Johanna took a calming breath. “I’ve been with my husband for over three months. I am still not with child.”

  “Three months, huh?”

  “I’ve lain with my husband every day. I thought for a while that it worked, but my bleeding started yesterday. It’s very important that I have a child as soon as possible. There are . . . people who don’t accept our marriage unless there is a child and they want to do everything they can to prevent that from happening.”

  It seemed so long ago that she’d been adamant that she didn’t want to get married, but now she could see why Father had said that society wouldn’t accept her. Once the marriage was declared invalid, she would never marry again, and without a business to run—was there even anything left in Saardam?—she would have no income. “It’s really important. You have to understand.”

  “Oh, I understand important. Important means you want something and you believe someone can give it to you.”

  “Well, I . . .”

  Magda pointed a red-skinned finger at her. “Important means that you believe you should get something. But forget that some things are not ours to give.”

  “I know that. I just thought you would have some herbs that might help.”

  “Hmm. I could give you some herbs for tea, yes.” Magda rose and started rummaging on the shelves. She took off a large jar and then another one. Then she unfolded a triangular paper bag from a drawer and put a scoop full of dried leaves in each.

  While this was happening, Johanna looked around the room. There was a stone tile leaning against the wall with writing on it in a language Johanna didn’t recognise. There was also a carving depicting a head of some sort of creature.

  “Here are herbs,” Magda said, pushing the folded bag across the table to Johanna. “Make tea. Drink every morning and every evening.”

  “Thank you.”

  And because there seemed nothing else to say, Johanna gathered up the paper bag and made to get up. To be honest, she felt keen to get out of here.

  “That’s all?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Magda’s form was backlit by the window. “Is that all you come to talk about? Herbs?”

  “Well, I . . .” She had intended to ask about the Magician’s Guild and getting a court magician, but in between Loesie’s strange behaviour and Master Deim’s warning, she was not so sure anymore. If there was one true thing about Loesie’s words, it was that Johanna really knew nothing about magic and she didn’t know what she was playing with.

  “Well . . . what if it doesn’t work, the tea?”

  Magda gave Johanna a sharp look. “First you ask for herbs. Then you say herbs don’t work?”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Herb medicine have two parts: one is the herb, two is the belief that it will work. No belief, no work.”

  Johanna frowned.

  “If you want to know if you’re doing it right with your man, then I can’t help. I know nothing about being with a man. Do you see a man here? Do you think I can get man ugly like this?” She angled her face to the light so that the red lumpy skin was more visible.

  “I never said—”

  “No, but you think and I can see what you think because I seen it all my life. I seen people not know where to look.”

  Johanna decided to plunge in anyway. She hadn’t come here only to chicken out again. Saardam was facing hard issues, and there weren’t going to be easy solutions. “I was wondering if my inability to get with child could have a magical cause because I’m pretty sure we’re doing everything right.”

  “Ha! Magic! You know nothing about magic.” An odd, happy, vindicated tone crept into her voice.

  “That’s why I’m here: to ask you.”

  “Magic comes with life and nature. Magic is all around. You people talk about believing in magic, but it is not something you can believe in. Magic is still going to be there, even if you don’t believe. Because magic is real.” Magda waved a finger in front of Johanna’s face. “You people, people from Church, they just scared. Church says they can’t use magic and magic people are bad. Bah. But yes, magic is cause of not being with child, because magic is cause of everything. Magic is why we alive.”

  “Then . . . could you use magic to solve it? I understand it will cost more.”

  Magda laughed, not a pleasant sound. “You understand nothing, little queen. You do not understand at all.” She got up from her seat. She squeezed past Loesie and went to a cupboard along the wall. When she opened the door, Johanna could see rows of jars of substances: bright yellow powder, rust red powder, white things that looked like little twigs, curly things that looked like lizard tails, a jar full of blue and grey spotted eggs, another full of frog skulls and many other strange things.

  She took out a stone basin on a stand, an earthenware pot with a lid and a blue glass bottle with a clear liquid sloshing inside.

  She placed the basin in the middle of the table, unstoppered the bottle and poured in a small measure of fluid. It looked like water, but spread a sharp scent through the room that made Johanna feel dizzy, like strong spirits. Then she took the lid off the pot and sprinkled some of its contents, a fine white powder, in the water. Whatever the fine powder was, it made the fluid bubble and smoke.

  Magda leaned over the basin and breathed the vapour. She had closed her eyes. The lumpy red skin even covered her eyelid.

  For a while, nothing happened. Johanna glanced over her shoulder at the door. It was still open, in case she wanted to get out quickly.

  Then Magda opened her eyes. Both of them had gone white.

  Magda started speaking. “Give me your hand, so I can read your magic lines.” Her voice sounded rough and intense, and made a chill run down Johanna’s back.

  Johanna hesitated. If there was some dark magic to keep her from becoming with child, she wanted to know about it. That was why she had come here.

  She held out her hand.

  Magda gasped. The white mist fled her eyes. “Who is your master?”

  “I have no master. I’ve met Duke Lothar and I watched while he exorcised a demon from my friend. Maybe you can feel that—”

  “You disturb the magic lines. Who is your master?” Her voice was more intense now.

  “I have no idea what you mean. I’m sorry.”

  “You ignorant people. Then what is your bloodline?”

  “My mother came from the Aroden court.” She didn’t think there were any strong magicians in that family. Just some people who, like her, could read things in wind or wood. She wasn’t even sure that her mother could do this.

  Magda said nothing for a while, breathing the fumes from the basin until her eyes went white again. “I feel, I feel . . . could be the betrayer’s presence. Could be, could be. Don’t know why it would be so strong in you. Maybe you care for the betrayer, huh?”

  “I’m afraid I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

  “The one with the two faces.” The white eyes met Johanna’s, causing a chill to run over her back.

  “Who is this person? Do I need to be careful of him? Is it someone in the camp?”

  “Ha. You do not know anything.”

  “I don’t. Tell me who this person is.”

  “The mention of the name would kill me. Magic so strong that none of us can fight it. That’s what happens when you disturb magic lines. When you dig up magic from soil where it should never be disturbed.”

  That was exactly what Loesie had been talking about. “How have people disturbed the magic lines?”

  “They dug it out of the soil.”

  “Where?”

  “You do not want to know. It is an evil place for innocent girls. It is no good talking about it because we cannot do anything about it. Even we are powerless.”

  We? Wait— “Are you from the Magician’s Guild?” That would make an awful lot of sense, including the visitors in dark clothes she had seen sitting at this table.

  Magda hissed, which J
ohanna took as an admission. She said nothing in reply, but didn’t deny connections with the Magician’s Guild either.

  “Please, we need your help. The king needs a court magician.”

  Magda laughed, not a pretty sound. “The king needs a court magician as much as he needs a jester. A court magician is a jester. We do not perform tricks.” She held up an ugly, red-skinned finger.

  “Then whatever you want to call it. We need help.”

  “Every person in this world needs help.”

  “I would like you to help us.”

  Magda was silent for a long time and after a while Johanna feared that she wasn’t going to respond at all. She was constantly moving her hands over the bowl.

  Johanna stared at those hands, wondering what Magda was doing, wondering if it would be impolite or dangerous to interrupt her and ask her more forcefully. She just wanted an answer. Yes or no, a reply she could act on.

  But now something was happening in the bowl. The trails of vapour thickened around Magda’s fingers and dripped off back into the basin, forming shapes. Misty forms coalesced into buildings and boats, and people. Her hands were weaving a town out of mist. Was that Saardam? If so, what was that strange ship in the harbour? It was much bigger than any of the local ships, even the seafaring ones, and two really thick masts.

  The white vapour had added a building to the town with a dome that towered over the surrounding houses. That had to be either the re-built palace or a new church. The Church of the Triune didn’t go for splendour, so it was either the palace or . . . a place of worship for the Belaman Church. She shivered. “Is that mist showing me the future?”

  “What mist?” Magda withdrew her hands.

  The vapour dissipated and the city of mist fell back into the basin. Johanna stared at the mirror-like surface of the fluid. Not a ripple.

  “You did not see any mist,” Magda said.

  “Um, I’m not sure.”

  “When people ask, you saw no mist. You saw no buildings and you saw no ships.”

  “All right, yes.”

  “I showed this because you will understand danger. Now go and don’t play with magic ever again.”

  “Sure.” Johanna rose, taking the paper bag with dried leaves off the table. “Thank you for the leaves. I’m . . . I’ll make the tea as soon as I get back.” She couldn’t think. It was as if that mist had gone straight into her head. Magda rested her hands on the table, the fingers interlaced, but Johanna swore she could still see the fingers weaving the mist over the basin.

  She saw the large ship in the harbour, and such a panic took hold of her that she couldn’t breathe.

  This was the future or something that was happening right now. With all her mind, she wanted to be back home, to look for Father, to help Roald take up his rightful position, to save the town from whatever evil had come in that ship. Loesie said that the magic lines had been disturbed. That ship was the disturbance. She and the others were wasting her time here. They were needed at home.

  Johanna stumbled from the room. Magda said something, but the sound of her voice became lost in the roaring of blood in her ears. She walked through the dark corridor, tripping over one of the bearskin mats and into the street.

  When she was at the porch, she realised what Magda had said: “You will have two children.”

  ‎

  Chapter 11

  * * *

  IT WAS NOT until Johanna was in the market square that the fog lifted from her mind and she could think clearly and tease out the things that Magda had told her. Most of it was more or less what Loesie had said: something disturbed magic lines and no one is powerful enough to fix it. But someone had done this while digging. And there was a strange ship in the harbour in Saardam, possibly belonging to Alexandre.

  That was more information than she’d had before, but it was still very incomplete.

  The sky was darker than it had been when she came in, but right now, only a steady drizzle fell from the solid layer of clouds, whipped up by squalls of wind that chased the low-hanging clouds over the jumble of slate-covered roofs.

  The heavy clouds promised more rain, and she had better hurry up if she wanted to stay dry.

  She was about halfway along the riverbank when the clouds started disgorging their contents. Big fat drops fell. Johanna ran close to whatever little shelter the meagre bushes along the path offered, but quite a few drops still fell on her scarf. Wet spots were starting to seep through.

  Then the rain struck in all earnest. The wind whipped up. So much water fell down from the sky that it was hard to see. Within a few paces she was soaked through.

  On this part of the path from the outskirts of town to the camp there was no shelter at all. Sheets of rain lashed the trees.

  Shards of mist rose from the river and drifted over the field. They moved.

  Johanna stopped. She stood staring at the river, with the rain pelting down and water dripping from her hair. The water churned like it was boiling.

  Johanna retreated.

  Out of the mist rose an animal: a white-winged swan that glided over the water.

  Then another one.

  Both birds looked real and yet they did not. Their feathers were too bright, their beaks too orange.

  Swans built their nests in the reed beds on the riverbank and she would have noticed their nest when coming this way. Swans were usually very defensive of those nests. There would have been cygnets, by now adult-sized but still with their grey feathers, aggressively defended by both parents. She knew a boy who got bitten by a swan so badly that his pants needed mending.

  As she watched, both birds took to the air with a grace she had never seen from birds this large. She had only ever seen swans run over the water before they flew. It usually happened with much splashing and flapping of wings.

  There were no ripples on the water. Already, both birds had vanished from sight.

  But now something else appeared out of the mist: a figure of a woman, dressed in a light-coloured cloak with a hood covering her head. She was floating towards the shore, appearing to walk over the water.

  Before she reached the riverbank, the ghostly figure veered to the left and floated in the direction of the camp.

  Johanna felt cold.

  If this was the ghost of Celine again, she could only imagine the mayhem and panic that would cause in the camp.

  She quickened her pace and ran through the mud. The ghost had disappeared between the reeds, which had combed deposits of grass and twigs out of the water.

  Was Johanna imagining things or had the river level risen a lot since she’d come here on the way into town?

  A scream echoed over the water, a woman or a child.

  Johanna ran, but that wasn’t easy in the sodden clothes. Her muscles were stiff with the cold and the rain had made the path muddy and slippery.

  In amongst the reeds stood some boys. Against the advice of the adults, they had gone to play by the river, and one of them was pointing in the direction of the water.

  Another boy picked up a stone and threw it at the ghost. The projectile fell far short. He picked up another stone.

  “No, don’t!” His friend held his arm back.

  “Why? It’s a ghost.”

  “Don’t you see? It’s Princess Celine!”

  The boy let his arm sink, staring open-mouthed at the ghost.

  One of the younger boys started to cry.

  The woman turned and she met Johanna’s eyes squarely. It was indeed the same apparition she had seen in the library. Johanna wanted to run, but a strange fascination kept her standing on the riverbank. She wanted to run and . . . what? No one would help her. No one even believed that this ghost existed, that it recognised her.

  There was a voice behind her. “Don’t get close to that one. That’s not a normal ghost.”

  Loesie stood higher up the riverbank, her arms crossed over her chest and her hair whipped up by the wind.

  “That’s the witch!” a bo
y yelled, pointing at Loesie.

  “Shoo with you,” Loesie called. “Run to your mothers. This is no sight for little boys.”

  “Leave Celine alone. She’s our princess.”

  Johanna said in a kinder voice, “This isn’t Celine, it’s an apparition. A ghost. It could be dangerous. Please do as the lady says.”

  One of the oldest boys said, “What do you know? That’s a witch, not a lady, and you’re not even the real queen anyway. My father says so.” He was at that age where boys are tall and gangly, all angles and awkwardness, with a mop of unruly blond hair. He looked like a ragamuffin, but the shirt he had gotten covered in mud was well-made. This was no ship’s boy.

  A younger, soft-faced boy said, “Is that why she’s all white? Because she’s a ghost?”

  Johanna said, “Yes, and also why she won’t answer your questions.”

  The older boy said again, “She can’t be a ghost, because she already answered our questions. She says she’s the real princess and you and the Idiot King can’t take her place.”

  Another boy added, in a quiet voice, “My mother says ghosts don’t exist anyway and they’re all figments of the imagination of witches to scare us.”

  Johanna wondered where he had learned such big words.

  They descended into an argument, their shrill voices echoing over the water.

  The blond boy gestured at the apparition, which had retreated a bit from the riverbank. “If she’s not a ghost, what do you think that is, then? Isn’t she walking on the water?”

  “Yes,” the shy boy said.

  “Can you walk over water?”

  “No, but she’s a princess. Maybe she can.”

  “The king can’t walk on water.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Oh, come on, stop being silly. People can’t walk on water. Ghosts can float wherever they please.”

  “Oh, look!” A little boy pointed over the water.

  The ghostly woman was now coming towards the riverbank, her eyes burning with anger.

  Johanna pushed the younger boys up the river bank. “Please listen to us and go to your mothers. It’s not safe here.”