Tipper sat with her mother, father, Paladin, Beccaroon, and Bealomondore. The minor dragons sat with the wizard and his librarian. They seemed to think dragons eating from bowls at the table quite a normal thing. Tipper watched them for a moment before she picked up her napkin and put it in her lap. “How are we going to honor Wulder, Papa?”
He winked at her. “By overthrowing this unsavory bunch.”
Lady Peg stabbed a piece of lettuce with her fork. “Do you think they really throw tossed salad?”
Tipper giggled. Her mother would be fine. She’d recovered from the shock of the night before. Then she remembered Runan. She sobered and looked at her plate. As she slowly chewed her food and forced herself to swallow, she wondered how an army in Ohidae would depose the throne in the palatial city of Ragar.
After their noonmeal, the prisoners roamed around the room, looking at the art, conversing in quiet tones, and waiting. Tipper wandered over to the three statues and studied them. They were backward. Evening tapped Day on the shoulder. Day’s hand that scattered the seed brushed Morning’s arm. Evening’s other arm reached back as she ran, and her fingers touched the water poured by Morning. Instead, Evening should touch Morning. Morning should pour her water on the seed. Day should be reaching toward Evening.
Tipper’s head jerked up, and she searched for her father. He stood with her mother at his side. He and the two Amarans conversed, all three looking serious. But was he well? With Grandur perched on his shoulder, he looked strong. She crossed the room and broke into the conversation.
“Papa, the three statues are joined. Are you all right? Is the problem gone?”
“I believe it is, even with the stones facing the wrong direction.”
Librettowit cleared his throat. “We were just discussing the configuration of the gateway. It is not as we originally designed.”
Tipper thought for a moment. “You cannot return to Amara?”
The librarian sighed. His shoulders slumped. “Not the way it is set up now. Runan has modified the design.”
“Which,” said Fenworth, “was already a modification of a variation of a revolutionary device.” He pulled his beard. “And we would not go home until Wulder’s purpose is accomplished here.”
“And what is His purpose?” asked Beccaroon as he joined the circle.
“I believe it is to bring Chiril under His influence,” said Verrin Schope.
The bird tsked. “Then He is another conqueror, much the same as our local villains, Mushand and Runan.”
Tipper scrutinized the gateway through which more soldiers entered the gallery. “How is it different?”
Verrin Schope wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Wulder comes with authority as part of His being. These men try to create authority with fear and force.”
She leaned her head against his arm. “I meant how is the gateway different from the one Wizard Fenworth and Librettowit constructed.”
“I don’t do construction. I’m a librarian,” Librettowit said.
Fenworth held up his fingers. “Ten. Maybe twelve at the most. You don’t bring legions of soldiers through a gateway. A handful of travelers use the passage. Too much traffic tears the delicate fibers of the structure. An ordinary gateway is used sparingly. Of course, Librettowit didn’t design an ordinary gateway, but the purpose was distance, not quantity.”
Her father looked over Librettowit’s head and past the statues to the device. “We’d like to get closer and examine the threads and the weave, but that is one place where the guards will not allow us to go.”
“Interesting thing is that those men coming through are not all coming from the same location,” said Librettowit.
Fenworth frowned. “And that’s something we can’t do with our gateways.”
“You shall get your chance to get closer, gentlemen,” announced Mushand from the door to the hall. He posed, his only motion the swirling of his drink. He wore an elaborate uniform like his soldiers but had given himself a higher rank. “As soon as Runan arrives, we will begin the next phase of our plan. He’ll be here shortly. Since we are going to the royal court in Ragar, he felt the need to show off his wizard status in the appropriate attire.”
Bealomondore and Paladin came to stand with those surrounding Tipper. The dragons came from various perches. Grandur already sat on Verrin Schope’s shoulder. Zabeth landed on Lady Peg. Hue chose Tipper, and Junkit came to roost on Fenworth’s head. The wizard didn’t seem to think this gave him an undignified appearance. He continued to glower at Mushand
Tipper heard the evil wizard as he came down the hall. The fabric rustled as he walked. Mushand moved into the room and turned dramatically toward the hallway. Runan stepped into view and paused, framed by the heavy wood casement of the double doors. Vines and sparkles adorned his full garment, and his hat pointed importantly as a wizard’s hat should.
“Fish scales in a crocodile’s teeth!” exclaimed Fenworth. “He’s wearing my formal robes.”
47
Going to the Ball
Runan sauntered into the room. “I understand you have not seen your parents in quite some time, Lady Peg.”
Tipper’s mother did not answer but looked to her husband. His arm tightened around her waist, bringing her closer.
Runan smiled.
Tipper’s stomach lurched. The man gloated, and she knew whatever he planned would be evil beyond anything she could imagine.
“I’ve reconfigured the portal, and our destination is Ragar. The royal palace to be exact. And…” He turned triumphant eyes on Fen-worth. “This should be of particular interest to you, my fellow wizard. We shall pass through the portal here in the afternoon and arrive there in the evening.”
“First,” said Fenworth, “obfuscating time is a bad idea. Second, I am not your fellow wizard. Argumentative, antagonistic, accusatorial, adversarial, combative, oppositional wizard perhaps. Adjectives that still don’t pinpoint my aversion at being linked with you. And third—” He paused to glare at Runan. “Third, you have stolen my finest robes. What kind of cheap wizard doesn’t make his own clothing? Imbecilic pup!”
Runan raised his eyebrows in mock terror. “You frighten me, old man.” He barely pronounced the last word before laughter burst from his lips.
Fenworth’s eyes narrowed, and Tipper heard him mutter, “Old? Experienced is more like it. Messing with time. Imbecile is too kind an appellation.”
Mushand ordered a band of twenty soldiers through the gateway. “Secure the corridor on the other side,” he ordered, then rocked back and forth from heel to toe as the men marched out of the room, using the crackling gateway.
Turning to his “guests” with a smug look on his pale face, he gestured to the gateway. “After you.” He swept an elegant bow. With his extra long arms and legs, the courtesy was more humorous than impressive.
Runan ambled toward the gateway. “Should you be contemplating not cooperating, let me remind you that we only need Lady Peg in order for our plans to play out. And since Fenworth risked his own life to save the young prince, I would choose to eliminate him first. Mistress Tipper would be my second choice.”
“Oh, really!” Lady Peg stepped away from her husband and approached the gateway. “Tipper should be first. Ladies before gentlemen. Come with me, dear. Where these people learn their manners, I can’t say.”
She and Tipper walked into the gateway arm in arm. The device squealed in protest.
Tipper held her breath. The two times she had been through this contraption, the pressure had nearly suffocated her. Three steps, and she pushed her way out of the smothering, thick air.
The guards who had gone before them lined the broad hall. A sandy yellow carpet ran the length of the corridor with shiny, light wood floors showing on either side. A few chairs and tables of the same pale color sat at intermittent distances on both sides. Creamy white walls displayed pictures in gilded frames. Rare yellow lightrocks illuminated the crystal chandeliers. Music played in the distance.
Her mother squeezed Tipper’s arm. “This is where I grew up, Amber Palace. Soo and I had so much fun. It’s huge and has so many places to play. We’ll be fine here, though I’d rather go home. Soo and I hardly ever ran into the king and queen.”
“You mean your father and mother.”
“Yes, them.”
A couple of snaps behind them warned of more people coming through the gateway. Tipper and her mother scooted out of the way. One by one, the others in their party entered the hall. Bealomondore and Paladin came to stand beside Tipper. Librettowit, Fenworth, and Verrin Schope stopped to scrutinize the gateway. Then Runan and Mushand strode through. The minor dragons were the last to pop out, and they flew around in circles, chittering.
“Ah,” said Runan. “We won’t wait for the others.”
Tipper surmised he meant the army at Mushand’s mansion. Runan sauntered down the golden carpet, past the men standing directly outside the gateway, past Tipper’s small cluster, and between the rows of soldiers.
“Follow him,” ordered Mushand. The soldiers brought their hands to their sword hilts in a very threatening gesture. The questers moved to follow Runan. The soldiers fell in behind them.
“Where are we going?” asked Lady Peg as she walked.
“To the ball,” answered Mushand from behind.
“The Palace Gala?” Tipper’s mother stopped, turned on Mushand, and rammed her fists against her hips. “Do you have an invitation? Because none of us do. Who raised you? Didn’t you have a mother who taught you right from wrong? A grandmother? A nanny? Clearly, someone has neglected your manners. We are not going to a ball to which we were not invited, dressed like ragamuffins.”
“Your Highness, if you do not continue down this corridor, you will be late for your own coronation.”
“There you go with that nonsense again.”
“Your Highness, if you do not continue down this corridor, I will have my soldiers kill one of your companions. You may choose the first one to die.” He raised a hand and signaled. One soldier drew his sword and stepped toward them.
“Your disregard for propriety is scandalous,” said Lady Peg. She pointed to the pale carpet. “Do you know how hard it would be to remove a blood stain from this rug?” She threw her hands up and began walking. “I want to be introduced to your family. Someone should be held accountable for your lack of proper training.”
A flush of anger darkened Mushand’s unnatural complexion. Tipper tensed and saw Paladin bring his hand to his waist, pulling back one side of his coat. Mushand shook off his ill temper and ambled on, a studied portrayal of a man with an amiable disposition. He passed Lady Peg without a comment.
Verrin Schope caught up with his wife and took her arm. Beccaroon positioned himself on her other side. Paladin took Tipper’s arm, and Bealomondore flanked her. The wizard and his librarian brought up the rear, followed, of course, by the soldiers. Tipper heard the popping of the gateway and craned her neck to see.
The influx of “the others” was beginning. Would all of this well-dressed rebel army pour into her grandparents’ palace?
The dragons settled themselves on the people in the usual order. Junkit landed with a thump on the wizard’s head.
Urgent whispers between Librettowit and Fenworth caught Tipper’s attention.
“Fireball, I say,” said the wizard.
“That’s not any more reliable than those confounded clouds you use to float things. And ten times more likely to go awry.”
“Was that figure scientifically deduced, or did you just pick ‘ten times’ out of thin air?”
“Out of thin air and experience. Concentrate on the time element causing glitches in the gateway.”
“It’s a fine thing when a mere librarian deigns to advise a wizard of my stature.”
Librettowit ignored the jab. “Cosmic whirling might suffice.”
“Haven’t done it in a while. Risky when you’re out of practice.”
“You’ve forgotten how to gain momentum, Fen?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t need to. You were always doing it backward anyway.”
“Backward, backward. There’s something about those pieces of stone being in the wrong order that should be to our advantage.”
“Something?” Librettowit growled. “Do you have any idea what this something might be?”
“No, but if you quit yammering at me, I might be able to puzzle it out.”
The music grew louder as they continued along the corridor. They passed an archway, and no more lights shone in their brackets on the walls or from the chandeliers above them. Tipper saw a staircase ahead and realized they must be on the second floor. A soft glow barely reached the railings of a balcony that spread out on both sides of the stairs. Had this part of the house been darkened for the party, or did Mushand’s crew take out the lights in order to cover their advance?
Two of Mushand’s guards passed them from the rear and positioned themselves at the top of the steps. Tipper took a couple of deep breaths. Those men moved without emotion, with speed and a sinister intensity. Fear crawled up her spine.
“Wulder hasn’t deserted us.” Paladin spoke softly.
Two more guards rushed past them and silently took positions halfway down the unlit stairs. Once they were in place, two more charged to a location ahead of them. When Beccaroon, Lady Peg, and Verrin Schope reached the top of the stairs, all twenty soldiers lined the path they would take.
Tipper glanced over her shoulder and saw more lurking soldiers. Fenworth and Librettowit discussed something in low tones. Music from below pressed against her ears. The only word she caught of their conversation was “time.”
Mushand gestured for them to go down the stairs. Lady Peg lifted her chin and descended the dark steps with a regal demeanor, her two escorts flanking her.
One melody came to an end, and Tipper heard Fenworth say, “He stole my hat too. I could use my hat right now.”
She winced. “Our government is about to be overthrown, and he’s irritable about his hat.”
Bealomondore took her other arm and, with a slight nudge, urged her forward. “Our turn. Mushand is cuing us to advance. Mustn’t make our madman angry. And I think a wizard’s hat is more than just a hat.”
In the great hall below, Runan stood in a large archway. His stolen garb outshone the dazzling gowns of the ladies being twirled around on the dance floor beyond. He smiled congenially and nodded as people passed. He turned and nodded his approval as Lady Peg drew nearer. When she stood behind him, he waited a moment for the others to arrive. Then he snatched off the pointed wizard’s hat and, with one hand, made a motion in the air as if he collected something, then thrust his fist into the hat. The music ceased. He put the hat on his head.
“Doesn’t fit him,” Fenworth grumbled.
Tipper saw the musicians on the platform still playing, but their instruments made no sound. The dancers came to a clumsy stop, gazing around, murmuring and exclaiming.
Runan strolled in among them with his arms raised above him. They backed away, leaving him with an expanse around him.
At Mushand’s command, Lady Peg and her entourage followed, and as they got closer, Tipper felt a pulse radiating from the evil wizard. The unpleasant vibration made her want to twitch as if many tiny bugs crawled across her skin.
The king and queen sat in elaborate thrones on a dais. Both emerlindians’ complexion had darkened with age and experience, but Tipper noted that her father’s skin was much darker. A glow of pride strengthened her resolve to meet these relatives with composure. She wouldn’t play the part of a poor country bumpkin. Grateful to her mother for all the lessons in etiquette, Tipper straightened her spine and continued to assess her grandmother and grandfather.
Queen Venmarie’s style was elegant without being elaborate. She wore a rich bronze-colored gown that coordinated well with the Amber Palace décor and suited her stout frame. Her grandfather’s tall, muscular body
belied the many years he had sat on the throne. He obviously did more than just sit. She suppressed a smirk. He did have a double chin.
King Yellat rose. “What is this? Why do you interrupt?”
The queen came to her feet and grabbed her husband’s arm. He leaned to hear her whisper, and his eyes locked on Tipper’s mother.
“Why have you come, Peg?” he asked.
“Why aren’t you dressed properly?” asked the queen.
Tipper saw her mother’s back stiffen, but Lady Peg said nothing.
Gasps erupted from the dance floor. At first Tipper thought it was recognition of her mother, the banished princess, but when several women fainted, she realized Mushand’s army streamed in through the door in two lines, swiftly surrounding the crowd.
“Where are my guards?” demanded the king.
No one responded. The silence spoke loudly. There were no longer any guards.
King Yellat glared at Runan. “What is this all about?”
“This is about new government. This is about a change. This, King Yellat, is about the commencement of your daughter’s reign.”
“Tut, tut,” said Fenworth. “I disagree. Oh dear, I believe this is about time.”
48
Comeuppance
“Stand very still.”
Tipper heard Fenworth’s command just before things in the room started jerking.
She watched, trying to figure out the meaning of the odd sensation. The fainting lady near her disappeared and then stood four feet from the place she had swooned. A man vanished from beside one woman and reappeared next to another. Careful to move only her eyes, Tipper glanced over at her father. The phenomenon reminded her of her father’s blinking in and out—only in this room, everyone but those standing still at Fenworth’s command suffered from the rapid, repeated occurrences.
Viewing the constant jerking made her dizzy. It might have been better if they all disappeared in unison, but they did not. The blink-outs staggered. The length of time the person was gone and the distance between where he disappeared and reappeared varied. Tipper closed her eyes against the chaos.
The Vanishing Sculptor Page 33
