The Button Girl

by Sally Apokedak

  ~Meticulous Mudslide, An Old Man Remembers

  Chapter 13

  Standing wet beside the pool, the king sighed loudly. "You should now get out of the water and help me on with my robe. You must watch me and anticipate my needs."

  She crawled up the stairs, keeping her body in the water as long as possible. Reaching the second step from the top, she made a dash for her gown. It didn't want to go on her wet body. The sleeves stuck and twisted. She yanked violently, desperate to get it on before the king turned around.

  "I am a sick old man and I stand here dripping. But you have no sympathy. How about this, then? I am your king and master. You will attend to my needs before you attend to your own. If you are smart, that is."

  She yanked her gown down and grabbed his robe. "I'm sorry, your highness."

  He shrugged his arms into his loose sleeves. "And tonight you must sleep in my bed. The maids will chatter otherwise. It's a nuisance really."

  Repentance gave him a sideways glance. If he didn't like to share his bed, why had he taken her? Apparently his mind was like his body—old and wrinkled. That happened. Her father's old-father was always confused and forgetting things. This king was in his two hundred and fiftieth year. Maybe he had forgotten what men were supposed to do to girls in their beds. A fragile strand of hope drifted her way, and she made a desperate grab for it. "I could sleep on the floor, so as not to bother you in your bed, Lord."

  He considered that for a moment. "You could at that. I'm sure my nephew throws the girls out of his bed when he's done with them. Why shouldn't I? Excellent idea!"

  The hope slipped through her fingers, blown away by his cruel words. He didn't want her to sleep in his bed. That was all. He didn't mind sharing his bed for other purposes and kicking her out when he was done.

  He walked her to their room. "You mustn't discuss our sleeping arrangements with anyone. You understand?"

  She gaped. Who did he think she might discuss the matter with?

  "But, by Providence," he continued, giving her a cranky look, "it is a huge inconvenience. I can't have a servant because you should be serving me, and it's clear you know nothing about serving. I daren't hope you know how to help a man bathe?"

  She shook her head. "I was never told that would be one of my duties."

  "Yes, I suppose they thought you'd need different talents this night. Mayhap I should have left you for my nephew." His expression softened. "But, no, that would not have been kind."

  She stared. He considered himself kind? He really was crazy, then.

  "Go to sleep on the floor, child. I'll bathe myself."

  Surprised, she jerked, but she recovered quickly and wasted no time. She threw herself down and lay as still as the warm stone beneath her. Afraid to move. Almost afraid to breathe, lest she call attention to herself and cause the king to change his mind.

  Sounds of bathing drifted to her from the other room, interrupted every once in a while by muffled coughs. Maybe his condition was agitated by his effort to wash himself. Repentance saw the flask sitting on the table by the bed and wondered if she should take it to him, but his coughing subsided.

  He reentered the room.

  Repentance breathed deeply and evenly, keeping her eyes shut.

  She tensed as she felt him walk toward her.

  His robe landed on her. She heard his labored breathing as he bent down, then she felt him pull the robe up around her shoulders.

  He doused the lantern and got into the bed.

  Repentance relaxed. It was unfathomable, but the king had decided not to use her ill that night. Before long, soft snores floated down from the bed. She offered a prayer of thanksgiving and gave herself over to sleep.

  The following morning Repentance woke stiff and achy from sleeping on the stone floor.

  She stretched, then rose, stifling a groan, and looked toward the bed, from whence came the sound of snoring. The king looked frail in sleep. He was ancient. The surprising thing was that he looked so ... so ... normal. Like a nice old-father. Not like a murderer.

  Fifteen minutes later, when she finished in the bathing room and re-entered the sleeping quarters, the king was sitting on the edge of the bed.

  "Ah, you're an early riser," he said. "That's good." He stood, swayed, and steadied himself. "Here we must be careful. Once we're at the palace, it won't matter. You'll have your own quarters there. And no one will expect you to be in my bed, of a morning."

  "You're taking me to the palace?"

  "Of course, I'm taking you. I can't very well leave you here to be used ill by any man who takes the notion."

  Repentance sat, stunned.

  "Besides," he added, "it's about time I took a concubine." He toddled toward the bathing room. "Go up and tell Jadin I require Catlinora to wrap my turban."

  "Child," he said, as she reached the door. "Remind me of your name. If we are to be famous lovers—and we shall, of course, have all of Harthill's tongues tattling—I should at least know your name."

  She almost cringed at the thought of being the king's lover but fought to control her face. "Repentance," she answered calmly.

  He grimaced. "Ah. How could I have forgotten? Let's hope I don't end up repenting this foolishness of mine."

  "Surely your highness has never been foolish."

  "Saving you from my nephew was foolish."

  "You took me in order to save me?"

  "You think I need a child to care for at my old age? Maybe being king doesn't keep me busy enough? Of course I was saving you. What do you think I was doing? "

  "I thought you ... I thought you took me …."

  "For a concubine? Good. Let the world think as much. Why should they think I am too old and infirmed to enjoy the pleasures of a concubine?" He coughed into his hand and sucked in a wheezing breath.

  Repentance took a moment to catch her own breath. He was saying that he wouldn't ... he couldn't use her as a concubine? "I don't understand. Why would you care to save me from the prince?"

  "You are so young. And you ... " He drifted off, staring at her for a moment—giving her a kindly look. "You remind me of someone I once knew."

  Did his eyes mist up? Or were they merely old and rheumy? Repentance couldn't be sure.

  He sighed. "The prince has a reputation for being very cruel."

  Heat rushed into her cheeks. "I've heard rumors of the same."

  "Good. Then you will pay attention when I say this: As long as my nephew thinks you are my concubine, he will leave you alone. If he suspects you have not been in my bed, he will take you to his." He gave her a hard look. "To all of Harthill, we will be lovers. And you will not disabuse anyone of that notion. If you do, I'll give you to the prince. And you will not find the change in circumstances to be to your advantage."

  "I understand." She didn't understand much, but she understood enough. For the moment, by some unexpected good will from Providence, she was safe.

  They stayed for three more days at the healing house and the king never laid a hand on her. Repentance took three meals a day with him, but the other girls didn't often dine with the royals. They were present for dinner, but not invited to breakfast and lunch. Repentance also noticed that the men traded companions back and forth. She and Tawnic were the only girls who were never traded. She, because the king had purchased her outright from Jadin, and Tawnic, because the prince apparently didn't like to share.

  At the table, the king treated Repentance as if she were his guest and not his slave. Well, maybe not a guest, exactly. He treated her like a possession, expecting her to obey him. But he asked her do things instead of ordering her about. And after Madam Cawrocc, and Jadin, with their constant threats to abuse poor Comfort if Repentance stuck one elbow too far out, the king seemed like an angel of Providence Himself.

  He'd saved her from the prince, and he didn't even require her presence in his bed. Short of freedom, she couldn't have landed in a better place.

  Still, she was surprised by the warmth she felt
toward the king when he took her hand and helped her into the carriage after lunch on the fourth day. It made her feel a little sick to her stomach. He showed her the merest trickle of kindness, and she was almost ready to forgive him for the evil way he'd treated her people. She thought of her little brothers, howling as they were being carted off by the slavers. She thought about the slaves at the healing house, scrubbing the pools, cooking the food, sleeping, after long days of labor, in cramped, hot, smelly rooms. She remembered Sober, beaten and tied to a post on the slave dock, and the dead boys swinging in the courtyard, and she pulled her hand away from the king and wiped it on her gown.

  The prince, standing beside the carriage, saw. He looked into her eyes and smiled before he climbed into the carriage behind his uncle.

  "Lord Malficc," the king said. "Why do you not ride with your friends?"

  "We have business, your highness. Nothing you need to worry about. Just papers for you to sign."

  A frown flicked across the king's face, but he said nothing.

  The prince settled into the seat facing the king and Repentance, and one of his friends, Lord Garresh, took the spot next to him.

  Repentance gave a last look the healing house, wondering if she'd ever see the swamp again or if this time she was leaving it for good. The other girls stood on the porch, laughing and waving and telling the noblemen to hurry back. Tawnic was with them. She wore a forced smile.

  Turning away, Repentance thanked Providence for her reversal of fortune. She couldn't feel sorry for Tawnic. The girl had shown no pity, and her curse had fallen on her own head, while Repentance had reaped a blessing. That was fair. Amazingly, Providence had sided with her for once, but she was surprised that her victory over the snotty overlord girl didn't bring her any satisfaction. Instead of wanting to gloat, she felt empty and old and tired.

  Escorted by at least thirty troopers on horseback, which hemmed them in before and behind, the carriages rolled away.

  The king looked at the prince. "What do you need?"

  The prince held out his hand and Lord Garresh pulled a thick pad of parchment from a leather pouch and passed it over.

  "We've gotten the census from the breeder villages."

  He placed the parchment pad on the king's lap.

  "You'll see there all the numbers, and you'll be pleased to know that Providence has blessed us with more boys."

  Repentance stared out the window and bit back her anger. Providence blessed them with more boys. The lowborns were no more than chickens who were suddenly laying twice as many eggs.

  The king grunted and Repentance heard the sound of parchment pages being turned.

  "Well, there's no need for you to read the whole packet," the prince said. "The numbers are up in every village. Just sign the bottom page, here—" More shuffling of parchment. And then the scratching of a charstick.

  "Ah, very good," the prince said. "And now we have one for you to sign in regards to your troopers."

  Repentance looked over to see the prince taking up the parchment pad and replacing it with a single sheet.

  The king picked up the sheet and read it. "Five thousand beads! It's criminal."

  "They're here for your protection."

  "My left elbow! Here for my protection. No one is trying to assassinate me. I'm the best loved king in three-hundred years."

  A look of hatred crossed the prince's face. "I'm aware of that, Uncle. Yes, I am. But it's because you are so loved, that we need to pay your troopers more. You are too precious to the people for us to take chances with your life."

  "My troopers? You are the one who orders them about."

  "Yes, Uncle. I order the troopers about, I take care of the imports and exports, I watch over the labor issues, I attend to our foreign wars, and you? You sign papers. That is how we have done it for a long time and that is what keeps the people happy. You smile and sit on the throne and I run the kingdom."

  The king glared. "You forget yourself, Malficc."

  "No, sir, I do not. I have not forgotten the kingdom and its needs. You are the one who seems to think everything will run itself while you're constantly down at the healing house. It is because of my work that the people love you so dearly."

  The king squinted at the prince. "No. You'll not give the troopers a bonus in beads. I'll give the bonuses myself. I'm old, Lord Malficc, not stupid. Yours will not be the hand that feeds the watchdogs." He crumpled the parchment.

  The prince nodded. "As you wish, your highness." He took another stack of parchment sheets from Garresh. "One more signature, then."

  The king grabbed the pile. "What is this?"

  "Provisions for various ministries." The prince tapped the top sheet. "More desks requested by the Ministry of Education." He lifted the page. "Rope for the Ministry of Jus—"

  "Oh, for the love of Providence!" The king jerked the pile back. "I can read for myself." He flipped through the sheets, scanning the contents of each, then turned to the bottom one and signed his name.

  The prince took the parchment book back and handed it to Garresh.

  Repentance thought the look he gave Garresh came very close to the one her little brothers would exchange when they'd succeeded in slipping slugs into the pocket of Comfort's shift when she wasn't looking.

  Why use your sons to till the soil?

  Why give their strength to sweat and toil?

  Why send your sons to fight in war,

  when slaves can do all these and more?

  ~Captain Karrnidge, Stratagem for Success

  Chapter 14

  The carriage followed the sandy road up the mountain. "Wake me at the farm." The king put his head back against the seat cushion and closed his eyes.

  Repentance looked at the old man, then chanced a sideways glance at the prince and his friend Lord Garresh who sat across from her. In the back of her mind, a thought began to form. It didn't matter how much she hated the king. If she pleased him she might be in a position to help Comfort when her buttoning failed. He had saved Repentance. Maybe he'd be willing to save Comfort, too. Thank Providence the king was well loved and no one wanted to assassinate him. As long as he was alive she was safe from the prince.

  But then a horrid thought hit her. The king was ancient. How much longer could he live?

  And when he died ….

  She glanced again at the prince's handsome face. He caught her looking and gave her a broad smile.

  She smiled back, with a grin that she hoped didn't look as sickly as it felt, and then quickly looked out the window. He scared her more when he smiled than when he frowned. She would have to pray that the king wouldn't die.

  By the time they turned in to the farm where they would trade their horses for two skim carriages, Repentance had counted seventy-eight birds flitting between trees, and three wild hogs in the creek that ran alongside the road. And she'd managed to keep from looking at the prince the whole way.

  The king disembarked and held up his hand for her. She took his hand, this time letting it linger after she'd gotten down. She had to forget his past and worry about her future, and Comfort's. And that meant she had to make the old king happy.

  "We'll stay the night here and leave early," the king said. "We'll make it to the palace by tomorrow afternoon." He led her up the steps.

  Repentance breathed out a sigh of relief. The following day, the prince would be traveling in the other carriage, Providence willing.

  Woeful's eyes nearly popped from his head when he saw her. He actually bowed as she passed. She couldn't resist giving him a little smirk. There were advantages to being the king's concubine. She hadn't landed in an unbearable position, considering how bad it could have been. Strange, to be sure, but not unbearable.

  But none of the strange occurrences that had tumbled, willy-nilly, into her life over the previous month prepared her for her first view of the palace grounds the following day.

  After traveling through the ice city for almost an hour, passing block after block o
f tall houses, the skim carriages paused at a tall iron gate in the middle of a long ice wall.

  The prince, who had been traveling in the front carriage, climbed out, and the carriage pulled off, down the road.

  The king's carriage pulled forward and stopped beside the prince. He climbed aboard and sat opposite Repentance. She stiffened. But maybe he didn't live in the palace. Maybe he was just going to visit or he had some work to do there.

  On either side of the gate, two ice statues towered over the carriages. Giant men with crossbows, surveying the sky.

  "What are they hunting?" Repentance asked the king.

  "They're guarding against dragons."

  "I've never seen a dragon."

  "Nor will you. They were annihilated in the Dragon War. Once, they were a threat to us, though, so dragon hunters were highly regarded."

  The drive wound through grounds filled with mist and magic. Colored ice fountains were abundant. And from hot water fountains, ice fog lifted and settled on pine trees, clothing them with thick, frosty shawls.

  Repentance put her hand out of the carriage window, feeling the warm day. "Why doesn't the ice melt in the sun?"

  "It can't melt. One of the gifts of Providence, you know."

  No, she didn't know.

  "Like the cloths and the hot springs," the king said, as if that would clear it all up for her.

  She nodded, not wanting to press him for an explanation lest he grow exasperated with her.

  Off to one side, a patch of slick, smooth ice shone like gold, and several children slid across the surface.

  Repentance laughed. How much fun her brothers would have had sliding there.

  She looked closer. "But it looks wet, there, where the children are sliding,"

  "It is wet," the king said. "It has a constant sheet of hot water running over it to keep it slippery. Otherwise it would freeze, dry and sticky, like the streets."

  "And would you like to know what's really funny?" the prince asked.