Spindle (Two Monarchies Sequence Book 1)

by W. R. Gingell

  He was still in the main room when she found it again, sprawled among a pile of dusty crates with his hands cupped behind his head. When Poly entered he sat up and said: “You took a very long time, Poly. Where’s the dog?”

  “Asleep.”

  “Good. We have a lot of work to do.”

  Poly sat cross-legged on a crate opposite him and said: “You said that. What work?”

  “You can’t sit like that, for a start. You’re meant to be a princess.”

  “I won’t sit like this in the Council Hall,” said Poly, somewhat indignantly. It wasn’t her fault that Luck didn’t care for chairs and tables. Something in Luck’s tone made her blink a little, and having done so, to think better of her intended reply. “How long have you known?”

  “Known what?”

  “That I’m not the princess.”

  “Oh, that. I was reasonably sure when you kicked me. Princesses usually rely on their guards to do their kicking. Besides, princesses aren’t known for their powers as enchantresses.”

  “Oh.” She said: “Are we staying here? Onepiece and I, I mean?”

  It was Luck’s turn to be mildly indignant. “Don’t you like it here?”

  Impossible to explain that she’d rather get away while it was still possible to do something about falling in love with him. “Yes, of course I–”

  “Well, you can’t stay in the Council Hall,” pursued Luck, unheeding. “The Old Parassians would probably try to blow it up, and we’ve just rebuilt it from last time. Besides, the Royalists would only say you’d been corrupted and by that time Black Velvet would have gotten to you, so you probably would be.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Poly rather faintly. It seemed suddenly as though it might be simpler just to say: ‘Look, I’ve fallen in love with you and I’d rather not stay here and make it worse, thanks very much.’

  “That’s why we have a lot of work to do,” said Luck in some satisfaction. “The Wizard Council are the ones who sent me after you.”

  “They’re the ones who want me to solidify their position against the Elder Parassians.”

  “Old Parassians. And it’s the Royalists that the Wizard Council is thumbing their collective noses at.”

  “Oh yes, the Royalists are the ones who want to put me on the throne,” said Poly. “It won’t work, though.”

  “Why? Because you’re not the princess? Try telling them that. Just see if they’ll believe you.”

  “And the Old Parassians are the ones who want to bring back the good old Fatherland,” Poly continued. “But who are Black Velvet?”

  “Sneaky people with too much money and too many influential friends. They’re more annoying than evil. They like dabbling in international affairs and general spyness.”

  “Well, what do they want with the Sleeping Princess?”

  “Who knows? Just don’t encourage them. And don’t accept any invitations of shelter, hospitality, succour or refreshment. Any or all of ‘em will try to get you under one of their roofs, and once that happens, you’ll never get out. Much safer to stay here with me.”

  “When will I be presented to the Wizard Council?”

  “As soon as I figure out how to get us both back out of the Council once we’re in. They’ll get wind of you soon enough, but nothing will be formal until we present you. As long as you don’t wander out of the grounds or open the gate to anyone until then, you should be safe.”

  “I won’t wander,” Poly said fervently.

  “Yes you will,” Luck said gloomily. “You’re always wandering and getting into trouble. I’d lock you in if I thought it’d work.”

  Poly tried to feel offended but could only manage to feel a rather pleased warmth.

  “Well, I won’t wander this time. Onepiece and I will– oh.” She faltered to a stop, and said: “Oh,” again, this time more ruefully.

  “I was wondering when you’d think of that,” said Luck.

  “I could tell them all he’s a puppy you picked up in a dirty little town, who thinks I’m his mother,” said Poly defiantly. “It is true, after all.”

  “They don’t care about truth. They care about their truth. If it suits the Wizard Council or any of the others to put it about that the dog is your son, your brother or your slave, it’ll be in the news-sheet by last bell tonight.”

  “He’s not a–”

  “He’ll have to stay at home,” said Luck, ignoring her. “The house will look after him. I won’t have him turning into a dog or sneezing every time someone gets a bit too excitable with their magic.”

  “He can’t stay at home alone,” Poly protested. “What if he gets stuck in one of the rooms? Or falls into the stream?”

  “Stream? What stream?”

  “I saw it out the kitchen window,” said Poly, exasperated. “You can’t–”

  Luck said: “Huh. So that’s where it went. I’ve been looking for that stream for the better part of a year. I think a bit of Don’t See I was working on leached into the water.”

  “The point is–”

  “You’ll have to be kitted out, of course. No good going to the Council looking like a village girl. And you should try to put a few more spells into your hair: they’ll be intimidated by that.”

  “Luck–”

  “Something gold and magnificent, I think,” said Luck thoughtfully. “Make ‘em sit up and pay attention.”

  There was a familiar whisper of magic around Poly. She shivered pleasantly and found herself in an exceedingly heavy gown of gold-threaded cloth with slashed sleeves, a properly whaleboned bodice, and a deliciously soft chemise. Persephone herself would not have scorned to wear it.

  “Luck, I can do this by myself now.”

  “Yes, but this is more fun,” said Luck. “Put your chin up, Poly. The dress is no good if you don’t look like you’re considering executing everyone. If they see any weakness, they’ll go for the throat.”

  “It seems to me that they’ve already gone for the throat,” said Poly.

  “Poisoned chocolates are more of a hello-and-pleased-to-meet-you. Here in the Capital things will get more interesting.”

  Poly felt a tingle of cold unease. “I can hardly wait.”

  Luck left early the next morning, suited and top-hatted. Before he left, he gave Poly and Onepiece a narrowed green look and said: “Don’t let anybody in: even me. I have a key. Well, a spell.”

  “If you have a key I won’t need to let you in,” said Poly.

  “Yes, exactly,” said Luck, and disappeared into the streets.

  It wasn’t until late morning that Poly discovered what he meant. Determined not to miss him, she romped around the garden with Onepiece, paddled in the stream, and persuaded a chair or two to grow in the grassy living room. It was while she was growing the second bushy chair that someone activated the hailer on the gate outside.

  It buzzed obnoxiously to announce the fact, a surprisingly practical piece of magic for Luck to have about the house, and Onepiece sneezed.

  Poly left him playing with one of the chairs and took herself down to the gate to see who had come calling.

  It was Luck. Or rather, she thought, looking narrowly at a cobweb of magic; it was someone pretending to be Luck. And not very well, at that.

  In her coldest voice, she said: “Yes?”

  Not-Luck blinked back at her through the peep-hole. “Let me in, princess,” he said.

  “I am not,” said Poly very distinctly, “An imbecile. Go away.”

  Not-Luck was still gaping when she snicked the tiny door shut in his face.

  She treated the second Luck to the same outraged dignity, but by the time the third imposter tried to convince her to open the gate, Poly had decided that enough was enough. She tweaked a small corner of the imposter’s spell and sent him away as a wrinkled old woman, hobbling angrily with a stick in each hand. Onepiece, perched on her right hip, gurgled with delight and clapped his hands, which inspired in Poly such creativity that
she sent away from the gate in quick succession a small, freckled child, a mournful bloodhound, and a fat white sheep.

  Not all the visitors were spelled to look like Luck. One, a pompous old man with magnificent sidewhiskers and a Comply spell on his well-modulated voice, told her in tones dripping with condescension to ‘be a good girl and open the gate’. It was with great satisfaction that Poly sent him away barking like a seal.

  The other was a young man following close behind the older, and since he hurried away very quickly after seeing the reception of his predecessor, Poly chose to let him alone. He seemed to have more sense than the others.

  After that it seemed wise to ignore the hailer, since Onepiece was rapidly showing signs of learning how to throw off spells. Accordingly, Poly ignored the frequent buzzes and concentrated instead on keeping Onepiece in sight and in one piece around Luck’s rather perilous house.

  Poly ignored the hailer, in fact, until she could ignore it no more. Most callers seemed to press the hailer either once or twice: if twice, leaning on it rather a long time the second time. This time, however, the buzzer sounded exactly once, after which a silence of some seconds elapsed, then an autocratic female voice said in disembodied tones: “Let me in immediately! I refuse to wait on the doorstep!”

  Poly sighed, and approached the gate once again.

  This time it was an angular lady who appeared to be in her late forties. Her face was narrow but handsome, and if it weren’t for the spell at present clinging to her hat and swirling around her person, Poly thought she would have quite liked her face. But the spell was there, and though it was unfamiliar, Poly could see quite clearly that it had concealment and transformation clauses attached to it.

  “You’re a goose,” she said to the woman, and where the woman had been standing was now an equally angular goose.

  Outraged, it said: “Honk?”

  Someone burst into a peal of laughter. Poly blinked in surprise and saw a thin, red-haired girl a step or two behind the goose.

  ‘Oh, poor Aunt Oddu!” said the girl, with tears of laughter in her eyes. “I don’t think she’s ever been so surprised in her life! She won’t stay like that for long, you know.”

  “She’ll have to,” said Poly grimly. “I altered her spell. Who are you supposed to be?”

  “I’m Isabella,” the girl said gaily. “That’s Aunt Oddu. She’s rather strong, you know, and that wasn’t her natural form.”

  “I know. That’s why I changed it. Who sent you?”

  “The enchanter did. I mean she’s not exactly people, princess. Whoops, there she goes!”

  Rather to Poly’s shock, the goose seemed to be growing. No, not growing: changing. Scales in bright green rippled from white feathers, spreading and dancing with variegated light, while the goose’s bill grew huge nostrils and faded from bright orange to a delicate flush of pink.

  Poly took a deep breath and tried not to sound flustered. “She’s a dragon.”

  “Yes. Rather beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “How is she fitting in here?”

  The alley was filled with dragon, but the dragon didn’t seem to have spilled out into the roadway. It wasn’t even a concealment or illusion spell: it was all real, flesh-and-blood dragon.

  “It’s got something to do with Luck’s alley,” said Isabella. “He explained it to me once when I didn’t ask about it. It’s ridiculously hard to understand, but what it all comes down to is that the space is slightly stretchy here because it’s almost-Forest, and Forest loves its mythics.”

  “Oh yes,” said Poly. “I should have remembered that.”

  Isabella looked slightly envious. “How interesting! That made sense to you!”

  “After ten years of magic theory with Lady Cimone and two weeks of travel with Luck, it should!” said Poly. “Is she going to stay like that?”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t think so,” said Isabella blithely. “You took her by surprise, that’s all. Speaking of surprises, why are you Transforming hapless callers at Luck’s gate?”

  “Luck told me not to let anyone in, even himself.”

  “I see,” said Isabella. To her credit, it sounded as though she did see. “They’ve all rather dashed for the gate, haven’t they? Do you know who delegated whom?”

  Poly shook her head. “Four Lucks showed up, one after the other. I can only assume that they’ve all had a go.”

  “It does sound like some of the Royalists,” said Isabella. “And the Old Parassians would certainly try something that stupid, but it seems a little clumsy for Mordion. I wonder who the fourth was?”

  “Perhaps it was Black Velvet,” Poly said, prompting a narrow-eyed look from Isabella.

  “Now where did you hear that name?”

  Behind Isabella, the dragon rumbled and emitted a few, scorching sparks.

  “Oh, all right, Aunt Oddu! I wasn’t being rude. I was just being, well, nosy.”

  Poly gave a surprised giggle, but Oddu merely snuffed a few more sparks and began to shrink again.

  When she was once more human, spell intact about her hat, she said quellingly: “Isabella, how many times have I told you that young women ought to be seen and not heard?”

  “If you include this time, once,” said Isabella, not quelled. “In fact, I believe you rather encourage me to talk. I manage to find out all the gossip that you don’t know.”

  “Or that you’ve become distressingly pert?”

  “Oh, that you’ve said many times, Aunt Oddu.”

  “Young woman,” said Oddu to Poly; “I am far from commending your attack upon my person. However, I must say that you show remarkable form for so young a person. I do not refer to you as Princess, you understand.”

  “Of course not,” said Poly in polite fascination. “I suppose you’re an Old Parrassian.”

  “Certainly not! I am neither Old Parrassian nor Royalist.”

  “Aunt Oddu thinks it’s nonsense to try and reclaim a country once it’s lost,” said Isabella. “And she doesn’t approve of putting redundant royalty from a past age on the throne. Isn’t that right, Aunt?”

  “Word perfect,” said Oddu, with an angular, amused look. It made her look much nicer. “Are you under instruction, my dear?”

  “That depends on what you consider to be instruction,” said Poly. “Luck has been throwing bits and piece of magic at me for the last two weeks, and some rather unpleasant Royalists attacked our carriage before we got here.”

  “I see. As usual, Luck has been regrettably deficient in his duties. I will have words with him. Come along, Isabella.”

  She sailed away commandingly, followed by Isabella, who shot a grin back at Poly over her shoulder in parting. Poly was left feeling that she had not successfully withstood an attempt upon her defences, but that Oddu had come, decided that she would prefer to remain outside, and left again at her own leisure.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Luck didn’t come back until the next morning. When he did return, he woke Poly from outside the gate with the gale force of his anger. Onepiece whimpered and shrank to a puppy in his sleep, and Poly dashed for the alley, muttering threats and imprecations. The gate blasted open before she could get to it, sending a storm of magic and splinters flying into the glade, and Poly threw up a shield more by instinct than decision.

  “Stop that at once!”

  “No,” said Luck. “I’m angry and I want to break things.”

  “Not in here! Onepiece is sleeping!”

  Luck looked obstinate. “It’s my allotment. I should be able to break things when I want to without worrying about the dog.”

  “He’s not– oh, never mind! What’s gone wrong?”

  “Nothing’s gone wrong. Everything is just as usual. The Council is a blood-sucking collection of leeches, the Old Parrassians are slavering wolves, and the Royalists are terrifyingly insane.”

  “You forgot Black Velvet,” said Poly. Luck’s agitated magic was quickly settling where it reached out to meet with hers, gold m
ingling with blue.

  “Yes, well, they’re just as sneaky as usual. You’ll have to come out with me tomorrow.”

  “Today.”

  “What? Oh, yes. Today. The dog stays at home.”

  “Luck, you sent a woman around yesterday.”

  “Did I? Huh. I did. Oddu. Knew you’d like her.”

  “It’s more of a question of whether she likes me,” said Poly. “After I dismantled her human-shape spell, anyway.”

  Luck looked surprised, banishing the last signs of anger. “Why did you do that?”

  “You told me not to let anyone in. Anyone. There were four Lucks before her.”

  “Huh. Clumsy, that.”

  “Yes, I thought so,” agreed Poly. “I expected something a bit cleverer, actually. Only then Oddu and Isabella came to visit and I could see the spell on Oddu’s hat, so–”

  “Well done, Poly! Tricky spell, that.”

  “Yes, but not something to be doing to invited visitors,” said Poly pointedly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sending her around? I wouldn’t have turned her into a goose if you had.”

  “Oh, the old tartar likes someone who can best her every now and then. You’d better get dressed, Poly; it’s going to be a long day and you can’t wear your nightdress to the council buildings.”

  Poly worked a piece of Dressing magic, encasing herself in the golden dress that Luck had made for her. In addition to the heavy skirts, Poly added a queenly ruff, a few jewel-like spells to enhance the bodice, and then, sighing, turned her attention to underthings. The delightfully soft chemise, she kept. After that, it was merely a matter of adding the correct amount of stiff petticoats and forming a series of hoops into the once-fashionable cage. The result was stately, imposing, and decidedly stifling.

  Poly sighed. “Ooof. I forgot how uncomfortable courtdress is.”

  “You look a bit stiff, Poly. You’ll have to do something about your hair, too.”

  “Bother!” grumbled Poly, striving to catch her coiling hair. It was at present stirring around her waist, tendrils exploring the laces and gems of the gown she’d just magicked, but it proved to be remarkably acquiescent for a wonder, and let her form a not-too-ridiculously-ancient bouffant that must have looked heavy but was delightfully light.