The Autumn Palace

by Ebony McKenna

  58 A traditional Brugel cold remedy involves equal measures of fresh milk, plütz, tomato juice and gunpowder. Mix and drink immediately. After that, a sniffly cold is the last of your problems. It’s also expensive, as fresh milk can sometimes be hard to obtain.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning, Ondine arrived a few minutes early at the school barn door. Hetty was already there, smiling as Ondine approached.

  ‘It’s so nice to have another girl my age at school. I’m so glad to have a best friend again. Someone to share my secrets. You’ll share all yours too, won’t you?’ she said, smiling, her cheeks plump and round.

  Something caught in Ondine’s brain. Sharing secrets reminded her of lazy summer afternoons with Melody, pretending to read their futures in a pack of cards as they divulged all sorts of family stories. Now with Hetty, the rules were different, but she had to pretend everything was normal. Putting on her best secret-sharing grin, she said, ‘Sure.’

  ‘I probably sounded a bit desperate just then. Sorry about that. It’s so weird, this place.’ Hetty gave a hesitant smile. ‘There are so many people, but it’s so lonely at times.’

  Ondine found herself nodding, but she started to wonder if maybe Hetty had some kind of agenda. Immediately she slapped that thought away. Since coming here she’d been off-kilter. Hetty was just being friendly, in an anxious kind of way.

  Ms Kyryl arrived and opened the barn door for the students. Hetty talked all the way to their desk. She seemed so desperate for friendship. A bit too naive. What if Vincent had convinced Hetty to do his bidding? Ondine mentally shook the thought away. Hetty might be immature, but she wasn’t silly. Or at least, not as silly as Ondine had once been. Then again, she lives on a farm, Ondine thought. Chickens were a fine source of salmonella if they weren’t handled with the utmost care. Perhaps the illness ripping through the palechia originated with the chickens?

  Ms Kyryl said good morning and announced the maths test. The class groaned. Ondine groaned, too, because she had to pretend she was just as surprised as everyone else. In fact it was a convincing groan, because she’d studied into the night and still felt half-asleep.

  The test itself hurt her brain, but she felt pretty confident she’d done a good job. There were a few questions where she didn’t have a clue. The ones involving parabolas. They always turned her brain to concrete.59

  It was over soon enough and they took out their textbooks to work though the next chapter of maths problems while Ms Kyryl marked the papers.

  ‘I love maths,’ Hetty said to Ondine. ‘When my sister was at home, she used to help me with my homework and I really got the hang of it. I’ll definitely be doing things with maths when I’m older. How about you?’

  When Ondine thought about her future, she suddenly realised she hadn’t given it much consideration. ‘I’m not sure what I want to do. I guess I . . .’

  ‘Don’t leave me hanging. What is it? You can tell me. I’ll keep your secrets.’

  There was that word again, secrets. Secrets Ondine couldn’t share, no matter how relieved she’d feel if she could unburden herself. Ondine couldn’t deny the bond developing between them. Hetty was the only other girl her age in the whole palechia. They had to be friends, otherwise she’d have nobody. And perhaps if they became really good friends, Ondine could find out if Hetty was working for Vincent.

  ‘OK. The thing is, I’m not really sure what I want to do. Probably work in my family’s hotel and then maybe later I’ll branch out. I guess as long as I’m with Hamish I know I’ll be happy.’

  Hetty’s eyes grew round in surprise and she made a little squeak. Just as suddenly, her voice dropped lower. ‘You’ve got a boyfriend already? Oh, my gosh. You city girls grow up fast!’

  An opportunity revealed itself. ‘What about you? Any handsome boy caught your eye?’

  Hetty blushed furiously and lowered her head in embarrassment. ‘I don’t know the first thing about boys.’

  ‘But there must be one you like?’

  She shook her head.

  At that moment, Ms Kyryl handed back the test results. There in the top right corner of Ondine’s paper was ‘D+’ in green pen, followed by the number fifty-eight.

  That sinking feeling of failure pulled her down into her seat.

  ‘D+? But I –’ Just in time, Ondine reeled in the words that threatened to fly out. She couldn’t admit she’d studied. But to get less than sixty per cent? What a burn. All that studying for nothing.

  ‘But you what?’ Ms Kyryl asked.

  ‘But . . . I thought I got most of them right,’ she said. Oh, how embarrassing, her voice sounded so whiny.

  ‘You did very well considering your lack of formal education. Your great aunt tells me you attended a psychic camp during your summer holidays, which I understand was not a great success.’

  Giggles rippled through the classroom. Embarrassment raced up Ondine’s neck and face. Even her ears burned.

  ‘It was Ma’s idea,’ Ondine started. Sure, she’d thought it a great waste of time, too, but now the class was laughing at her, she felt strangely protective of her family’s choice. After all, regular school terms are mandatory, but surely what you do in your holidays is free choice? Otherwise why call them holidays?

  Ms Kyryl asked the students to open their textbooks to a set page and they embarked on a new set of quadratic equations.60

  Hetty leant over and whispered, ‘Don’t feel bad. We went to maths camp over the summer.’

  ‘Oh.’ That would explain why they were all so good at it.

  ‘But I bet you had more fun,’ Hetty said.

  After school Ondine dashed to Old Col’s room in the hope of seeing Hamish. To her continuing disappointment, she found him in Shambles form, sitting atop a small table crammed with platters of food. Old Col sat beside him, making notes.

  ‘Smells great, I’m starving.’ Ondine reached for a slice of cheese.

  ‘Not so fast.’ Old Col’s hand slapped her on the wrist. ‘We haven’t approved it yet.’

  Shambles piped up, ‘Hullo, lass. Pavla’s goat us taste testing. Best job in the world. That lamb’s tae die for.’

  ‘You’re tasting his food? But what if someone really is out to get him and they put something in it!’ Fear twisted her tummy.

  ‘That is the whole point, dear child,’ Old Col said. ‘Considering how sick the Duke is, we should have done this earlier. He’s turned the corner now, thanks for asking. Although he’s a long way from being at his best.’

  ‘I meant to but . . . I’m glad he’s feeling better. That’s such a relief.’

  Col said, ‘He’s banned all seafood since it rained fish and he’s banned coffee. He very nearly banned soup as well, but then they’d have nothing to feed the staff.’

  ‘There’s sandwiches,’ Ondine said, wishing she had something solid to eat. Then the reality of the situation hit home. ‘But what if you get really sick?’

  ‘Aye, goat it worked out too,’ Shambles said with his ferrety mouth full. ‘Ye noticed how me neck injuries all healed when I changed. If there’s anything wrong with the food, I’ll change intae meself and I’ll be all better.’

  ‘Does this mean you don’t have time to open his mail anymore?’

  ‘Not in the slightest,’ Col said, then laughed. ‘We’re very busy, keeping the Duke hidden in his sickbed, opening mail and eating all day.’ Taking up a knife and fork, she cut a morsel from the edge of the hard cheese and gave it to Shambles. The two of them chomped away happily.

  Squelch. A cramp of hunger twisted Ondine’s tummy. The need for food overrode her fear of what might be in it. She snatched a hunk of cheese and wolfed it down.

  ‘There you are! Where have my teeth gone?’ a voice demanded from the doorway.

  The three of them turned to see Infanta Anathea standing there with that ironing-board-smooth face of hers, holding no-teeth-Biscuit under one arm.

  Thank goodness Hamish was presently in his Shambles f
orm, otherwise they’d have a lot of explaining to do. Unless the Infanta had been there for a while and eavesdropped on their conversation?

  ‘That spell must be reversed,’ Anathea said. She had a look on her face that was hard to read. ‘And that thing on the table needs to be put down.’

  Calm as you like, Col said, ‘Do you have the teeth?’

  Guilt made Ondine gulp. She’d had the teeth. But she’d thrown them away.

  The Infanta said, ‘Do I look like the kind of person who has a set of dog teeth in her bag?’

  Ondine thought she looked like the kind of person who carried around all sorts of crazy things in her bag. Probably a fair bit of emotional baggage in her head as well.

  ‘I can’t do much without the teeth,’ Col said.

  Was she baiting the Infanta? Surely her great aunt would not be so rude.

  ‘Fix it, now, or so help me something will be done!’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ Col held her hands out. ‘Give me the dog.’

  ‘Ru-ru-ru-ru,’ Biscuit wailed.

  Shambles tensed.

  Anathea held on to him tightly. ‘No, he will not be abused again.’

  With a resigned voice, Col said, ‘I’m not going to abuse him. I’m going to help him. I’m sure he has more teeth in his gums that can come through soon –’

  ‘He’s a champion breed, not a shark!’ Anathea protested, handing the dog over.

  ‘Ondine, will you get my travelling bag, it has some nifty potions in there.’

  Doing her great aunt’s bidding, Ondine fetched the carpet bag. The medicine bottles clinked and rattled as she picked it up. She handed the bag to Col, who passed her Biscuit. Ondine really didn’t want to hold the dog who’d nearly killed her dearest love, so she gave him back to Anathea.

  ‘Ru-ru-ru-ru.’

  In a flash of fur, Shambles dashed off the table, raced over to the bed and climbed to the top of the bedhead. Then he leapt even higher and balanced on the lampshade. Ondine didn’t blame him wanting to be out of reach when Biscuit got his teeth back.

  ‘It’s all right Shambles, his bark’s worse than his bite,’ Ondine said.

  ‘How dare you!’ Anathea said.

  ‘Ooops, sorry.’ Ondine found something interesting on the floor to look at.

  ‘Let’s have a look,’ Col said, taking Biscuit back into her arms and not caring that he snarled and wriggled. ‘There, there. Kleine denta wachsen, kleine denta wachsen.’61

  ‘What is being said?’ Anathea demanded.

  ‘I’m encouraging his little teeth to grow. Now, Ondine, my hands are full. Grab me the tin marked “salamander”.’

  Rifling through the bag Ondine found bottles and boxes and an assortment of strange things. ‘Found it.’

  Tucking the dog under one arm, Col flicked open the tin and shook a little powder into Ondine’s palm. She dabbed the tip of her finger in the powder and proceeded to rub it on the dog’s gums.

  A wince of disgust creased Ondine’s face. ‘It’s not real salamander, is it?’

  ‘It’s their dried eggs. Right, that should do it.’

  ‘The teeth are fixed now?’ Anathea said as she took her dog back.

  ‘I’m a witch, not a dentist. You’ll have to wait and see.’

  Anathea held Biscuit close to her chest. ‘I will not be made fun of! You mark my words, make an enemy of me and you will never know a moment’s peace!’

  With that, she stormed out.

  Shambles leapt off the lamp and landed on the bed. ‘She’s going tae the top of me list of suspects.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Col said. ‘I’ve been looking at the line of succession. Vincent is too young to succeed but if anything happened to the Duke, Anathea could make a play for power.’

  ‘Is that such a bad thing?’ Ondine said. ‘Surely anyone’s better than Vincent?’

  ‘No argument here,’ Shambles said, climbing back on to the table, where he helped himself to a bite of roast lamb. He swallowed it in one gulp. ‘Mmmpfh, aw, very good, yeas.’

  ‘What about the salad?’ Ondine asked. ‘Aren’t you going to try that?’

  ‘Aw no, lass. Ye know us ferrets cannae stand it,’ he said.

  ‘Then perhaps you should be Hamish again, and then you could eat a bit of everything and –’

  Old Col chimed in. ‘I know what you’re getting at, child. You’d like to see more of Hamish, because you can’t think beyond your own needs. But we’ve got it worked out. He eats fat and protein, I eat the fruit and veg, and together we have all the bases covered.’ Col picked up a leaf from the salad then took some red powder from a small metal box and sprinkled it over the food.

  ‘Is that a magic antidote?’ Ondine asked.

  ‘Paprika. I love it. Mmm, interesting . . . I thought that was spinach but it must be something else. In any case, it’s fine, if a little bitter.’

  ‘Can you please take this more seriously!’ Ondine wanted to stamp her feet. They were eating potentially poisonous food. When they weren’t eating they were opening potentially explosive mail. They didn’t seem the slightest bit worried.

  ‘Oh dear.’ Shambles ducked away from the table and scurried into the bathroom. In a few moments he returned as Hamish, dressed in a shirt and dark trousers. ‘Bad news. I think the lamb is off.’

  Fear turned Ondine’s tummy to lead at the thought that her darling Hamish could be sick. But it was so good to see Hamish as his human self again. ‘Are you feeling OK?’

  Beads of sweat broke out on his brow but he smiled anyway. ‘All the better fer seeing ye.’

  ‘I worry about you.’ She reached forward and gave him a hug.

  ‘Oh dear, that’s turned,’ Col said behind them as she sniffed the leftover lamb. ‘Hamish, I’m surprised you couldn’t smell it.’

  ‘Aye, weil, I could, only it smelled good because I was hungry.’

  ‘Hamish, you must be more careful,’ Ondine said.

  Col pushed the offending pieces onto a side plate. ‘Not even the Infanta deserves that. Looks like lamb’s off the menu now as well.’

  Ondine hugged Hamish more tightly. ‘I can’t believe it, someone really is trying to poison the Duke.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Col said.

  Ondine turned to her. ‘You’ve got a bit of . . .’ She touched her tooth.

  ‘Thank you.’ Col removed the stray greenery from between her teeth. ‘But I hope it’s not as sinister as that. Maybe some well-meaning idiot in the kitchen has served up something they should have thrown out a few days ago.’

  Despite Hamish’s arms holding her close, a cold shudder rippled through Ondine. ‘This place is giving me the creeps.’

  Col folded her napkin and got up from the table. ‘No time for that, child. We must all ready ourselves for afternoon tea with the Duchess. Hamish, you know what to do.’

  It broke Ondine’s heart to watch him change into a ferret again. Maybe when afternoon tea was over, they might find some time to be themselves again?

  There I go again, wanting the impossible, she thought.

  59 Another problem with parabolas is pronunciation. Is it PA-ra-BOWL-a or pa-RA-bo-LA? You can waste a good five minutes in class arguing that one.

  60 Another term for parabolas.

  61 This is Old Brugelish, which has origins in German and Latin. The language is so frustrating and illogical that studying Old Brugelish is the leading cause of nervous breakdowns in modern scholars.

  Chapter Thirteen-A62

  Ondine felt like she had to pass another test as she and Hetty took their seats at one of the small tables in the conservatory that afternoon. She felt like a princess wearing the dress Old Col had picked out for her. It was made from floaty peach-coloured layers, which twirled and swished with each step. Her great aunt had even bought her the sweetest pair of low-heeled slippers, all sparkly and lovely. They were strapless shoes, so walking in them took a bit of getting used to, because she kept thinking they were about to fly off her feet each time she took a step.
Sunlight streaked through the conservatory windows.63 Outside, the autumn wind flickered through the row of liquid amber trees, making their orange and yellow leaves twist and spin into the air as they fell from their boughs.

  There were about twenty small tables here, all made from lace-iron.64 Ondine recognised the tablecloths from her time in the laundry. It didn’t take a psychic to know most of them would be covered in wine and tea stains by the end of the day and she’d have to wash them again. Old Col and Shambles sat at a different table, closer to the Duchess. The Duchess, her glossy mahogany hair perfectly coiffed, sat at the head of a longer table in the centre of the room.

  Nobody made any introductions to Ondine or Hetty, but Ondine didn’t mind. It was enough to be all dressed up, sitting in such lovely surroundings, eating delicate sandwiches and crisp, sweet biscuits, washed down with tea.

  ‘We’re seat filling,’ Hetty said in a soft voice. ‘It happens from time to time. The Duchess can’t stand to have an empty table, so she lets us come as long as we behave ourselves.’

  ‘Why not move the empty tables and seats out?’

  ‘Because they are screwed to the floor.’

  Ondine placed her hand on the edge of the table and tried to move it. Not even a slight budge. She tried the same with her chair, with the same result. ‘Who screws furniture to the floor?’

  Hetty leant closer and kept her voice low. ‘A few years ago, some tables and chairs went missing. My parents helped search the farmhouses and barns to try and find them. They never showed up. The Duchess ordered the rest of the furniture to be bolted down. It’s been that way ever since.’

  ‘Lucky us, then,’ Ondine said as she helped herself to a cheese finger sandwich from the neat little display tower in the middle of her table. Glancing across the room, Ondine saw Hamish-as-Shambles appearing to sleep on Col’s lap. His ears strained back and forth like a radar dish, listening for morsels of information.