by Alex Bledsoe
“How?” he sobbed, and took a step closer to me, away from the edge.
That was enough. I grabbed him by his expensive tunic and threw him to the ground, then jumped on him and wrapped my arms around him, pinning his arms to his side. I did my best to hold him there against the stone despite our mutual slipperiness.
“No!” he shrieked, kicking and screaming like a child. “No, let me go! Let me go!”
“Stop it!” I said.
“I don’t want to go through this anymore!” he yelled. “I just want it all to end!”
He fought the way only a desperate man could fight, but he didn’t have any stamina, so he quickly wore himself out. He finally collapsed, sobbing and beating the stone with his fists. I held him down until I was sure it wasn’t another bluff, the way he’d done with Hector and Ajax.
I crawled off him and awkwardly patted him on the back. “Just get it out, Your Majesty,” I said. “Just get it out.”
And he did. I was embarrassed for us both, but sixteen years of repressed guilt and grief was bound to be ugly. It took a while, but eventually his sobs slackened, and he lay facedown, breathing heavily and whimpering.
“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s all going to be all right.”
“No,” he said, wiping his nose like a child. “It’ll never be all right. How can I look at any of them, ever again? I’d have to kill them all.”
“I don’t think that would send the right message.”
He sat cross-legged, and I did the same, ready to tackle him again if he made for the edge. He wiped his eyes and said, “Why do you care about all this, anyway? It’s not your kingdom. You’re not part of Ellis’s court, or mine. Why are you here?”
“Because a brave man once died saving a little baby girl, but before he did, he asked me to help her, too. And I did. You know what’s funny about that, Jerry? Although I barely knew her for a day, that little baby girl claimed a place in my heart. And even though she’s no longer a baby, I wasn’t about to let anyone hurt her again for their own selfish reasons. Not even a king.”
He wiped his face again. He looked smaller now, and more frail, as if all the nervous insanity that had built up in him had been exorcised. And maybe it had. “You know what, Jerry? You need someone to talk to. A friend, or a wife, or even a dog. I think you keep to yourself too much.”
“I’m the king,” he said. “Who can I talk to?”
“You used to be friends with Ellis. At least he also knows how heavy a crown can be.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “You don’t talk like a sword jockey. Anyone ever told you that?”
“Not once they got my bill,” I assured him.
We sat on the roof and talked about nothing in particular for a long time. Then Liz poked her head through the open hatch and said cautiously, “Hello?”
I waved. “Over here.”
She came up onto the roof, then hunched down when she realized how high and exposed we were. “Are railings against the law here?”
“This is actually the execution platform for high-ranking prisoners,” Gerald said. “Allowing them to jump off on their own supposedly lets them maintain their dignity. Truthfully, if the family stories are to be believed, most of them dropped dead on the climb up. Royals aren’t usually in the best shape.”
Liz sat down beside us, careful to stay out of Gerald’s reach. “I was elected to come see if you two were okay. It’s been a while.”
“No,” Gerald said. “Far from it. But I won’t get any more okay sitting up here in the dark, will I? And you’re right, Mr. LaCrosse, it is cold.”
He stood and offered Liz a hand up. She took it warily.
When we got back to the laboratory, it reeked of smoke. The first thing I saw was a body on the wet floor, covered with a blanket. A quick head count told me who it was: Opulora.
“She just . . . died,” Beatrice said. “Almost as soon as you left. She just dropped, without a word. And then all her books burst into flame and burned themselves to ashes.”
The remains on the shelves confirmed this. The secrets that created Tatterhead, and saved Isadora, were now lost.
When they saw Gerald, Hector and Ajax drew their swords and stepped in front of him. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” said Hector, “but it’s not safe for you here.”
“You mean it’s not safe for anyone else, having me here,” Gerald corrected. There was a weary wisdom in his demeanor that I’d never seen before. “You’re right, Hector. Feel free to guard me.”
I knelt and pulled the cloth back from Opulora’s face. She looked impassive in death, the lines of age and strain faded to the kind of serene beauty she must have possessed in youth, when she became friends with a future queen. I lowered the cloth and said, “She used up her life to save Izzy’s.”
“What?” Isadora said.
“You were mortally wounded. I could tell it, and I bet Hector and Ajax could, too. She gave you enough of her life to heal the wound, just like she did to keep you alive when you were unborn. But this time, it was more than she could spare.”
“Oh, my God,” Isadora said, and her eyes grew wet. “There was so much I wanted to say to her, to ask her—”
“That’s the worst thing about this world,” Gerald said. “People can be gone in the blink of an eye. And we never get to say what we should.”
Gerald and Isadora looked at each other and their eyes met for the first time. Something passed between them; I couldn’t say what, or where it would ultimately lead, but there was now a connection where there hadn’t been before.
Man, I was tired of these people. Not that I disliked them, but I just wanted to not have their problems on my head anymore. “Look, I don’t think we have any more secrets to reveal here, do we? We’re all clear on who did what, when they did it, and why, right? Right.” Liz came over and put her arms around me. I wanted to go to sleep right then, with her holding me.
“So,” Clancy said, “what happens now?”
Isadora wrung goop for her gown. “I want a bath.”
“Someone should bury Opulora,” Hector said.
“Yes,” Gerald agreed. “She may not have been a citizen, but she sacrificed herself for Mahnoma. She will be interred with all honor in the Tomb of Heroes. And then, Princess Isidore will be introduced to her people. Followed, it appears, by preparations for a royal wedding that will unite Mahnoma and Altura for generations to come.” He smiled at Ellis.
“Let’s just wait a minute,” Jack said. “You’re all talking about Izzy like she’s not here. Shouldn’t we ask her what she wants to do?”
Gerald said, “You’re quite right, Prince John. My dear, my . . . daughter: Would you prefer to be announced as the princess of Mahnoma, or as the future queen of Altura?”
Still wet and sticky from her time in the tank, she looked like a bedraggled doll. “So my choices,” she said at last, choosing her words carefully, “are between staying here and being a princess by birth, or going back to Altura and being a princess by marriage?” She looked at me for confirmation.
“Those are two of your choices,” I said.
“There’s no ‘choice’ to your royal blood,” Gerald said. “You are Princess Isidore, and this is your kingdom.”
“And as either visiting princess or prospective daughter-inlaw, you’ll be welcome in Altura,” Ellis said.
Harry Lockett stood poised to mark down her words. Even Liz and I held our breath.
“I think,” she said slowly, “that until I have time to ponder all this in detail, I just want to go back to being the granddaughter of the richest sheep farmer in Mummerset.” She moved over to stand between Beatrice and Clancy. “And the daughter of his eldest child. I can’t change where I came from, but I can determine where I’m going. I’m no one’s property, and no one’s slave. I choose for myself.” She smiled. “Jack, do you still want to be a sheep farmer’s boyfriend?”
“More than I want to be a prince. No offense, Dad.”
Ellis said noth
ing; if he was bothered, he knew enough to keep it to himself at that moment.
“You will always be welcome here,” Gerald said, too worn out for a new disappointment to register. “I know you may find that hard to believe, and I don’t blame you for being a bit skeptical. But I hope one day I may be honored with your presence, and learn more about you . . . Isadora.”
“So that settles everything,” I said with genuine relief. “All the secrets are out. Everyone now knows who everyone else is, and where everyone else is going. Is there anything we haven’t cleared up?”
“I plan to track down Billy Cudgel and settle accounts with him,” Jack said. “I don’t care what rock he hides under, I’ll find him.”
“He’s here,” I said.
“He is?”
“He showed up out of the blue and helped me get past the guards at the city gate. He got arrested.”
“He totally convinced me that he was my friend. I need to look him in the eye and tell him I’m on to him. That when he gets out, I don’t want him sniffing around Altura for a royal handout.”
“Where would they take him?” I asked Hector.
“The city jail, most likely,” he said.
Jack turned to me. “Would you come with me?”
“Me? Why?”
“Billy can be charming. Very charming. I’d like somebody there who’s immune to that.”
“As long as there’s no Devil’s Dew involved,” Liz said. There was some laughter.
“And while you’re doing that,” Beatrice said, “we’ll be washing up and getting ready to go back home. Right?”
“Right, Mom,” Izzy said.
I watched Gerald closely for any sign of incipient Crazy Jerry–ness. He seemed like a beaten man, too weary to manage another outburst, but who knew how long that would last? Yet hopefully admitting the truth about himself, even to someone like me, had let off some of the pressure he’d let build for sixteen years.
“Go on with Jack and Hector,” Ajax said quietly. “I’ll take care of things here.” He gave Gerald a significant steely-eyed warning glare.
“And I’ll make sure he does,” Liz said.
I nodded, then followed Hector and Jack out of Opulora’s hidden laboratory. And it only took us half an hour to find another part of the castle that Hector recognized. Was that Opulora’s final little joke?
Hector and the scruffy jailer led me and Jack through the cell block. Each cell held multiple prisoners, many of them drunks. The smell of vomit, urine, and body odor hung heavy in the air. Somewhere a drunk cried.
We reached one of the last cells, and the jailer put the key in the lock. Three other slovenly men stood aside as we entered, and Hector eyeballed each of them, alerting them to what would happen if they got cute.
Billy slept on the pile of straw in the back. He did not awaken as we approached. The jailer nudged him with his foot. “Hey. Fat man. You’ve got visitors.”
Billy’s head lolled in an absolutely unmistakable way. Hector and I exchanged a glance. He knew it, too. So did the jailer, who drew his long knife and backed the three prisoners into the corner. “All right, you murdering cowards, who did this? Tell me now and you’ll be the one who doesn’t hang for this!”
I knelt and turned Billy onto his back. His face was half purple, where the blood had settled while his corpse remained on his side. His swollen tongue also protruded slightly between his teeth.
One of the other prisoners screamed when he saw it. The scream was picked up along the cell block, mockingly and with delight. I checked Billy, but found no sign of injury.
“No one killed him,” I said. “At least, not with anything obvious.” I suppose there was a slight chance he might’ve been poisoned, but it seemed far more likely that the terror of finally facing the consequences of his actions had stopped his heart as surely as any weapon or venom. For a man used to talking his way out of things, there could be no worse fate.
“The fat lying bastard,” Jack muttered. Yet he said it with such compassion that I checked to see if he was crying. He wasn’t, but when he knelt and kissed the dead man on the forehead, I heard one of the other prisoners sniffle.
Chapter
TWENTY-NINE
We journeyed back to Mummerset in the company of the Glendowers and Altura’s royalty, with promises to visit Mahnoma again in the near future. Gerald also assured Ellis he would pay an official social call to the Alturan court in the very near future. We passed back through Illyria, but no one knew what had become of Tatterhead, or Viola, who’d apparently accompanied him of her own free will. I hoped they found some peace, wherever they ended up.
That first night back at Glendower’s Aerie, Isadora asked to speak with me privately. We met in the same room in which she’d earlier pulled a crossbow on me. Once the door was shut, she said, “I haven’t properly thanked you for saving my life. Repeatedly, it seems.” She rose on her toes and kissed my cheek. “Thank you.”
“That’s okay.”
She was dressed simply, in a tunic and trousers, with riding boots and her hair pulled back. I knew she’d just returned from a no doubt chaste riding excursion with Jack. She looked fresh and beautiful and not at all like a princess. She said, “You seem like a very sophisticated man. You’ve experienced a lot, and not very much catches you off guard.”
If only that were true, I thought, but I said, “Part of my job.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“I can’t answer that for you.”
“No, but you can give me your opinion. I have no idea how to be a princess. What do they do, anyway?”
“They provide a face for the royal family, a promise of the future, and an heir when it’s time.”
Her lip curled in a slight, ironic smile. “I see. And what do they do the other twenty-three hours of the day?”
“Truthfully, not much. But Mahnoma could stand a little of your stability and good sense, and it would give you experience for when you become queen of Altura. The question is, why would you want to do it?”
“Because . . . it’s my blood?”
“Blood isn’t what makes families. Only love can do that.
You should understand that by now.”
“Then . . . because it’s the right thing to do?”
“Is that a good enough reason to dedicate your life to something?”
She pursed her lips in amusement. “You’re supposed to help me clarify things, not make them more complicated.”
“It is complicated, honey.”
She thought this over. “All right. I’ll just have to keep thinking, then. There’s no immediate crisis that requires a decision.”
“That’s probably the best thing. And if you need another sounding board, your mom is one of the smartest, toughest women I know.”
She stepped closer. “May I ask you something personal?
Why didn’t you stay with her back then?”
“I wasn’t the person I am now.”
“Was she?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” We both laughed at that.
“You could’ve been my father,” she said.
“I know. That’s crossed my mind, too. But I can’t imagine how you could’ve turned out any better.”
She smiled shyly, and her cheeks flushed at the compliment. “Your wife is a lucky woman, Mr. LaCrosse.”
“I’ll tell her you said that.”
As I went to rejoin the others, Harry Lockett waylaid me in the hall. “What were you and the princess talking about?” he asked.
“Off the record?” I said.
“Of course not.”
“Then we were talking about the price of wool.” He laughed. “You’re a fascinating guy, LaCrosse. I think it might be fun to sit down with you sometime and get your life story.”
“I can’t think of anything more dull.”
“Are you kidding? The two times I’ve crossed paths with you, you’ve had beautiful princesses underfoot, strange beasts tearing u
p the countryside, and elaborate plots you’ve had to unravel. That sort of thing is gold to someone like me.”
“Maybe when I’m old and retired.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.
A week later, Liz and I drove her wagon away from Mummerset. There were hugs, hearty handshakes, and yes, tears. But Beatrice told Clancy to get a hold of himself.
When we reached the forest, she said, “Well, that vacation was exhausting. I can’t wait to get back to my routine in Neceda, so I can get some rest.”
“At least everyone’s where they want to be now,” I said. “Except Opulora. And Billy Cudgel.”
“Wow, you’re really seeing the bright side of everything, aren’t you?”
Sunlight that got through the leaves sparkled in her eyes.
She said, “I’m sorry, I am being a downy clowny.”
“If you ever use that term again, I’m leaving you,” I said mock-gravely.
She smiled. “There’s a lot of happiness back there, but it’s built on a foundation of tragedy. I mean, Gerald’s queen and prince are still dead. It was a long time ago, but it counts in the tally, doesn’t it?”
“Interesting observation.”
“I asked Izzy what she was going to do about Mahnoma.
She said, ‘Blood isn’t all that matters.’ Do you believe that’s right?”
“Yes, I do,” I said with certainty, secretly delighted to be paraphrased. “I know it’s right.”
“Because of people like Duncan Tew?”
The bitter teenage son of a pirate and a barmaid, both of whom abandoned him for selfish reasons, had managed to get a toehold on maturity during a particularly rugged sea voyage. I’d pointed the way, but he’d made the journey. “Partly. Partly because of myself. I drank and saw the spider, too.”
“When Janet was killed?”
“Yeah. I was convinced that because she died, the world was cold, and evil, and that it was okay to take what I wanted.
It took me almost as long as it did Gerald to get past it.” I didn’t envy him the dreams he’d have for the rest of his life, either. The nightmares were easy: they scared you, and you woke up. It was the other dreams, the ones where the people you loved were still alive, with all the emotions that entailed, and when you woke up you had to accept their loss all over again. No matter how happy you became, you never completely outran those.
