The True Queen

by Zen Cho

  Perhaps she would not need the polong in any case, Muna thought as she became more awake, for the Sorceress Royal had said she would arrange for a message to be sent to Mak Genggang. But the witch might not come at once. She would have liked to accompany Muna and Sakti through the Unseen Realm, but she could not afford to leave Janda Baik unguarded: “Like as not Tuan Farquhar would snap it up the moment my back was turned!”

  The English remained a threat, as did the other polities around Janda Baik. Mak Genggang had given them the polong for a reason. It would be best if Muna were able to manage with the polong’s help.

  A princely breakfast, laid on in honour of her arrival, served to improve her spirits further. Henrietta alone shared it with her, for the Sorceress Royal had returned to her own quarters, but there was such a quantity of food as would have supplied the wants of the whole of Mak Genggang’s numerous household. To drink there was coffee, tea and an astounding invention called chocolate, which Muna had never tasted before but of which she thoroughly approved. There were eggs, salted fish, several sweet cakes and as many bread rolls as anyone could want—hot and generously spread with fresh butter, these were very good. But Henrietta was proudest of the chops.

  “Pork chops with mustard!” she announced when the dish was set down before Muna. “Though you must not grow accustomed to this luxury, Miss Muna; in general we dine simply at the Academy. But Mrs. Wythe and I thought a good meal would set you up after your long journey, particularly since you missed your dinner—you were sleeping so soundly we did not like to wake you.”

  Muna thanked her, but she looked from Henrietta’s eager face to the dish in front of her in consternation.

  “It smells wonderful,” she said. She paused—but she saw no way out of disappointing Henrietta. It was clear Muna’s hostess intended to watch every bite. “But I am afraid I cannot eat pork. The rules of my religion prohibit it.”

  “Oh,” said Henrietta, stricken.

  Muna felt as though she had murdered a kitten. “I am sorry.”

  “Not at all,” said Henrietta bravely. “We ought to have asked you before forcing our pork chops upon you. Nothing so rude as hospitality you do not desire! Sarah, pray take the chops away. But Miss Muna will have the kippers, I hope—can you take a kipper, Miss Muna?”

  Contrite, Muna took the kippers, as well as the eggs, cakes and bread, in quantities slightly in excess of her capacity to consume them. By the time the meal was concluded Henrietta’s good cheer was restored, and Muna was so full that she could almost imagine that there was no space left inside her for grief or worry.

  She had not forgotten her decision that morning, however. While the servants bore away the plates, Muna said to Henrietta:

  “Will Mrs. Wythe be teaching any lessons today?”

  She had decided that she would plead weariness from the journey, and anxiety about her sister, if she were asked again to perform any demonstrations of magic. How long this excuse would continue to serve she did not know. But if she could only extract some useful guidance from the Sorceress Royal on making the polong heed her, she would soon be able to rely upon the polong’s aid to pass herself off as a witch.

  But Henrietta said, “Oh no! Term does not begin for several days, so you will have time to recoup your energies and acquaint yourself with the Academy before lessons begin. Mrs. Wythe does not often take classes in any case. Her duties as Sorceress Royal demand most of her time. Mr. Wythe and I divide the teaching between us, and Mr. Damerell assists when either of us is called away from the Academy. Unfortunately Mr. Damerell is absent at present—I scarcely know how we shall manage without him.”

  Henrietta’s forehead wrinkled, the pale eyebrows drawing downwards over her grey eyes. But Mr. Damerell’s absence did not interest Muna in the least.

  “Then will Mrs. Wythe join us for dinner?” she said.

  “No,” said Henrietta. “I believe she dines with Lady Hertingford tonight. Lady Hertingford is vastly wealthy and proud of her reputation as an eccentric, and Prunella hopes she may be persuaded to become a patroness of the Academy.”

  She hesitated, then went on, “I am afraid I will not be present at dinner either, for I must go home shortly. I am sorry to abandon you, but a few of our scholars are arriving this evening, so you will not be entirely alone. I am obliged to attend upon my family, you see. Indeed, they expected me at breakfast, but I wished to see you settled in.”

  “Pray do not apologise,” said Muna, touched by Henrietta’s look of guilt. It was easy to reassure her, for it was not Henrietta’s presence on which Muna’s hopes were pinned. “I am very well able to amuse myself. But I should like to speak with the Sorceress Royal soon, if it is at all possible. I wish to ask her about sending a message to Mak Genggang.”

  Henrietta’s face cleared. “You need not worry about that. Prunella will not have forgotten. I should not be surprised if she has already spoken to Mak Genggang and told her all you have told us.”

  Since there was a great deal more that Muna wished to tell Mak Genggang that she did not intend divulging to the English magiciennes, this was less of a comfort than Henrietta meant it for.

  “Still, I should like to speak to Mak Genggang myself,” Muna persisted. “And to the Sorceress Royal, for I also wish to ask her about—”

  About familiar spirits, she meant to say, but abruptly her voice gave out and the sentence ended in a squeak.

  Muna blinked. “I meant to say, I wished to ask her about—”

  But it was no good. Her throat closed up, and the words would not come. The effect was so sudden and so decided that it felt almost like—like—

  Like a spell, thought Muna.

  Of course. Mak Genggang would not have placed such a powerful talisman in Sakti’s hands without taking precautions. She had not relied upon Muna and Sakti’s discretion alone to preserve the secret of the polong. She had not wished them to tell the English about the polong, and so they could not.

  To confirm her suspicion, Muna said, “I desired to ask Mrs. Wythe’s advice about a familiar spirit Mak Genggang entrusted to us, a polong.”

  Or rather, she tried to say this. She choked on the first word and began to cough with such violence that Henrietta looked alarmed. She forced Muna into a chair, bringing her a glass of water and pushing a handkerchief into Muna’s hand.

  “I beg your pardon,” said Muna, when the coughing had subsided. Her voice was subdued, for she was overcome by a sense of betrayal.

  Perhaps Sakti needed to be restrained, she thought, but Mak Genggang might have trusted me!

  Henrietta was all concern.

  “Pray don’t worry; I am sure Prunella will call upon you as soon as ever she can,” she said. “She does not wish to be remiss in any attention, I know, for truly it is impossible to overstate how highly she esteems your mistress. There is no magician she respects more—and that is saying a great deal, for I have known Prunella since we were both children, and she has not a highly developed organ of respect! She would have breakfasted with us today, but she was called away.”

  Henrietta paused. There was evidently more she might say, but she seemed to doubt whether she should speak. Finally she made up her mind and went on:

  “Mrs. Wythe does not wish the news to be spread abroad, for she has not yet decided what she will do. But yesterday she received a message from an old schoolfellow of ours—for we attended the same school as girls,” Henrietta added by way of explanation, “an establishment for gentlewitches. Clarissa wishes to join the Academy as an instructress, and Mr. and Mrs. Wythe are seeing her this morning.”

  Muna patted her eyes with Henrietta’s handkerchief, for they were streaming after her fit of coughing. There was no other reason for the tears. Certainly she was not weeping because Mak Genggang had not trusted her to maintain a judicious silence about the polong, for that would have been a feeble thing to do.

/>   With an effort she brought herself back to the present.

  “That is very good, isn’t it?” said Muna. “To find a new instructress, just when you are in need of help. And it is someone you know! It must be a weight off your mind.”

  “Yes,” said Henrietta dubiously. “But that is the problem, you see. We do know Clarissa.”

  “Were not you friends?” said Muna, though she could guess the answer from Henrietta’s expression.

  “We were never on what I would call intimate terms,” said Henrietta, but then her true sentiments broke through her reserve. “Well, one couldn’t be friends with a girl like that! She despised Prunella for being poor and an orphan, and because her mother was a native. I believe she was jealous as well—Clarissa was, I mean—for Prunella was always pretty and fascinating, and more magical than the rest of us put together.

  “But that is why it is so surprising that Clarissa should have applied to us. Her father has always decried women’s magic. He was one of the chief opponents of the establishment of this Academy. They do say the family has changed since Clarissa’s brother went to live in the Fairy Court—his mother, in particular, feels his loss greatly. But still . . .”

  Muna raised her head, for she knew the Fairy Court was what the English called the Palace of the Unseen. “Her brother lives in Fairy? I had understood the Queen of the Djinns welcomed few mortals to her court.”

  Henrietta nodded. “Yes, but Geoffrey married a connection of the Queen’s and followed his wife to the Fairy Court.”

  If he were a relation of the Queen, she would not molest him, thought Muna; his situation was not remotely equivalent to Sakti’s, for Sakti had been brought there by force. Still she said eagerly, “And is he happy at the Court?”

  “Well,” said Henrietta, hesitating, “no one can say! Visits over the border are not allowed; no one in England has seen Geoffrey since he left. But his relations are naturally anxious about him. And when one thinks of the horrors that have befallen mortal magicians in the Fairy Court, one can hardly blame them.”

  “Oh,” said Muna.

  She had already known that the Queen was ill-tempered and changeable, and Sakti was in grave danger every moment she spent in the Queen’s Court. Why should Muna feel Henrietta’s words as a blow?

  “Still, I cannot believe that can have altered his father’s opinions on women’s magic,” Henrietta was saying. “I should have thought it would have the reverse effect, for it is said Geoffrey’s family blame Prunella for his departure. If Clarissa is defying her family in coming to us, that will mean trouble.”

  Muna thought of the scene she had witnessed upon her arrival. So much had happened since that she had neither sought an explanation nor been proffered one, but she had contrived to gather that the irate gentleman who had scolded Mrs. Wythe was Henrietta’s father. Briefly distracted from her misery, she said:

  “Your father, Mr. Stapleton—does he mind that you are a witch?”

  Henrietta crimsoned. “He does not know. I am obliged to practise in secrecy. That is why I must often absent myself from the Academy—and why I know what trouble it causes when one defies one’s family for magic! My father is acquainted with the greater part of English thaumaturgy, and it would expose him to ridicule if it were known that I teach here at the Academy.”

  “But everyone knows Mrs. Wythe is Sorceress Royal, don’t they?” said Muna, perplexed. “That cannot be a secret here. It is known even in Janda Baik.”

  “Oh, but that is Prunella!” said Henrietta, dismissing the Sorceress Royal with the wave of a hand. “She does not labour under the disadvantage of having parents.” She sighed. “Relations are a terrible burden to a girl with magical ability.”

  This turned Muna’s thoughts back to her own troubles. She did not think she had ever been a burden to Sakti, but she was not being much of an aid either. “Do you know when I might see the Sorceress Royal?”

  “She has a great deal of business to settle before term commences,” said Henrietta unpromisingly. Muna’s face must have fallen, for Henrietta added kindly, “But I shall send her a message. If she cannot come away before, you will see her at the ball, at least.”

  “The ball?”

  “Mrs. Wythe is hosting a party tomorrow for all her acquaintances,” explained Henrietta. “It will be at the Sorceress Royal’s quarters, a small distance from here. That is why we shall have a few of our scholars with us this evening, though term has not yet begun. Mrs. Wythe wishes to introduce them to some important persons who she hopes may be prevailed upon to become benefactors to the Academy. Prunella was anxious that you should attend the ball, too, if you do not object. It is not often that we can boast of hosting an Oriental enchantress!”

  Muna was in no humour to attend any party, and she was about to concoct an excuse when a thought gave her pause. She had left Janda Baik and journeyed through the jungles of the Unseen to find the author of the curse. If Sakti was in the Palace of the Unseen, it seemed unlikely that the answer would lie in England—and yet there remained the fact that “Midsomer” was an English name.

  Was not there still a chance that she might find out something useful about the curseworker while she was in England—or even track down the curseworker himself, this Midsomer who had used her and Sakti so cruelly? She should leave no stone unturned. Breaking the curse might yet be the means of recovering her sister.

  “Will there be many magicians at the ball?” said Muna.

  “Nearly all of English thaumaturgy will be in attendance,” Henrietta assured her. “And I shall be there with my family—though not, of course, in the capacity of a magicienne—so you need not fear that you will know no one.”

  “Then I should be delighted to attend,” said Muna.

  After her disappointment in the polong, she felt quite equal to threatening to break the enchanter’s head if she could only contrive to find him. It was the prospect of the ball itself, conducted along foreign lines, that was rather more daunting. Muna looked down at herself. “Though I am not sure I have brought suitable clothes.”

  “Oh, that will be no difficulty,” said Henrietta. “Mrs. Wythe left orders for her gowns to be brought to you so you may choose one you like; you are much of a size.”

  “That is very kind,” said Muna gratefully.

  But despite her best efforts it was evident she had failed to conceal her lack of excitement at the idea of the ball. Henrietta gave her a worried look.

  “I thought I might just show you our library before I leave,” said Henrietta. “Our collection is small yet, but there are several books that may amuse you. And if you did wish to begin your studies now, it includes a treatise by Mr. Wythe which serves as an excellent introduction to basic thaumaturgical principles.”

  Muna was able to muster rather more genuine enthusiasm at this suggestion—perhaps there would be something in the Academy’s library that would tell her more about the curse, or the polong, or the Palace of the Unseen. Relieved to have hit upon something that pleased her, Henrietta led Muna to a small book-lined study.

  “It will be very interesting to learn about thaumaturgy,” said Muna. “I should particularly like to know about curse-working—evil spells, you know, and their antidotes. There are some wicked people in Janda Baik who are given to cursing their enemies,” she added, thinking her interest might require some explanation, “and it is always useful to learn about remedies. And are there any books on familiar spirits?”

  There were several books on both subjects, as it turned out, and Henrietta picked out a few for Muna to read before she left.

  Even with a fire crackling in the grate and a shawl wrapped around her, it was cold. Muna huddled down in her chair, reminded herself that Sakti might be suffering much worse in the Palace of the Unseen—a place no doubt colder and more unpleasant than Britain by far.

  English thaumaturges might make excel
lent magicians, but Muna could not admire their prose; every sample she read was written in the same hopelessly dull style. Still she persevered, determined to extract what she could from the books. But the authors she read were fonder of embarking upon flights of theory than dispensing practical advice. She had worked her way through two tomes, gaining no insight that seemed pertinent to her situation, when she gave up, pushing the books aside.

  She felt stupid, but she had developed a pounding headache and did not feel equal to continuing. If Sakti were here, it would be easier. Not that Sakti would have bothered studying these books, or stopped in the library for above five minutes.

  Muna was almost alone in the Academy—most of the servants had gone to the Sorceress Royal’s quarters to assist with preparations for the ball, Henrietta had said. It was too cold to go outside, but there was no reason Muna should not explore the building. She would not disturb anyone.

  She opened the door and stood for a moment, listening. The house might have been empty, save for herself. A hush lay over it, though she could still hear the sounds of the city outside. Muna set off along the corridor.

  She tried the doors as she passed, glimpsing rooms with rows of tables and chairs, which she supposed to be where Mr. Wythe and Miss Stapleton taught their classes. At some point a person of means had evidently occupied the building, and it was kept clean enough for the most fastidious taste, with polished floorboards smelling of beeswax.

  But upon closer inspection Muna could see that the carpets were worn and the furnishings, though handsome, were rather old. It was no wonder the Sorceress Royal was kept busy seeking patronage for the Academy. Running a school seemed an expensive enterprise.

  In time the corridor opened upon a long narrow room, not much furnished, with rows of paintings lining the walls. Muna’s steps slowed as she studied these.

  They consisted exclusively of portraits of Englishmen, all of whom bore a strong likeness to one another. Most had white hair; several looked wicked, and more looked miserable. Muna would not have been surprised to be told that their subjects belonged to the same family, and when she read the labels on the paintings she saw that the same few names did indeed recur.