The True Queen
Page 12
She presented her husband to Muna. Muna recognised the dark gentleman she had seen from afar; closer to, she saw why Henrietta blushed when she spoke his name, and the scholars harboured such a passion for him. Zacharias Wythe was not only tall but remarkably handsome, with a gentle manner that was peculiarly winning.
He bowed. “I regret that my duties called me elsewhere, or I should have been present to receive you. I was very sorry to hear of the misfortune you met on your journey here. An appalling tragedy—without precedent, Mak Genggang tells us.”
Muna’s head snapped up at this. “Mak Genggang told you . . . ? You spoke to my mistress?”
Mr. Wythe blinked. “We were anxious to inform her at once.” He glanced at his wife. “Mrs. Wythe said you particularly desired that she should be told about your sister.”
“What did she say?” said Muna, her heart in her throat. “Is she coming?”
She knew the answer at once from the look of pity and discomfort on Prunella’s face.
If Mr. Wythe was equally dismayed, he was less transparent. He said gently, “You need not doubt she was exceedingly concerned. She wished me to assure you that she will do everything in her power to trace your sister. But she could not come away. Her duties in Janda Baik detain her. For the time being she begs you will remain with us.”
Muna felt cold, though what with her stays and petticoats, and the smart white spencer Sarah had given her, she was more heavily covered than she had ever been in her life. She folded her arms, pressing her gloved hands into her elbows to warm them.
Mak Genggang does not know Sakti is in the Palace of the Unseen, she told herself. If she did, perhaps . . .
But even if Muna could tell Mak Genggang where Sakti was, would the witch risk an encounter with the Queen of the Djinns on Sakti’s account? Muna and Sakti had already made trouble with the British; Janda Baik did not need another powerful adversary. After all, they were only two of the many people requiring Mak Genggang’s protection. Not only the witch’s household, but the villagers—indeed, the people of the island as a whole—depended upon her. Muna would be foolish to think Mak Genggang would abandon her obligations for one girl’s sake.
Her eyes stung with unshed tears. There was no one Muna could rely upon—no one who would save her and her sister, unless it was Muna herself. And she was so ill-equipped to do it!
Mr. Wythe was still speaking.
“I have called up our records on Fairy and will study these for what guidance they may yield,” he said. “We have not lost a magician in Fairy in many years, and even then . . . But if there is something we can do, it shall be done. Your sister will not be forgotten. I beg you will be patient, impossible as that will seem to you.”
“Thank you,” said Muna when she had swallowed the lump in her throat. She owed it to Sakti to keep trying, even if she doubted what help the witch could—or would—give. “May I speak with Mak Genggang myself?”
Mr. Wythe hesitated. “Yes, of course. If a suitable time can be found . . . As you know, she is a woman with many demands on her time.”
“We told her all you have told us,” Prunella assured Muna. She seemed about to say more, but then she raised her head, her expression changing.
“Why, there is your mamma, Henny!” she remarked. She sounded glad of the distraction. “You will forgive me, Miss Muna—I must pay my regards. I wonder what has made her look so cross!”
Muna turned to see a fair-haired Englishwoman bearing down upon them. She did indeed bear a strong resemblance to Henrietta, and must have been equally pretty in her youth. But the first detail that struck the observer was the fact that she was in a towering rage.
“Henrietta Stapleton!” she cried in a voice that drew startled looks from the other guests. “There you are!”
“Yes, Mamma,” said Henrietta. She darted a look of perplexity at Prunella. The Sorceress Royal spread her hands, as much as to say she had no notion what was amiss. “I said I would look for Mrs. Wythe, you know, and you see I have found her.”
“Are not you ashamed of yourself?” said Mrs. Stapleton, her bosom swelling. “I am surprised you can bring yourself to address me with such an air of innocence, when you have deceived me!”
The colour drained from Henrietta’s face.
“Deceived you?” she echoed. “What—what can you mean?” But Henrietta was a poor actress: her face was a picture of guilt. Before she could continue, the Sorceress Royal stepped on her foot, as though by accident. Henrietta gulped, but said no more.
“You know just what I mean,” said Mrs. Stapleton. “Or rather, I should say who! I am speaking, as you know perfectly well, of her!”
She flung out her hand, pointing at Muna.
“Of me?” said Muna, baffled, but the Englishwoman did not reply. She stood glaring at Henrietta.
“I do not understand,” Henrietta faltered.
“You have been making up to a native sorceress,” said Mrs. Stapleton. “And you never breathed a word of it to me!”
“But, Mamma—”
“To think I should have sacrificed so much on your account,” said Mrs. Stapleton tearfully. “Attended such a number of dull parties—scraped to so many Honourables and Countesses! I thought only of you and your sisters. I was determined that you should hold the position in the world to which your beauty and worth entitled you. And this is the reward for my devotion!”
She flung out her hand again, compelling Muna to skip out of her way, or embarrass everyone by receiving an inadvertent slap from Henrietta’s mother.
“How could you, Henny?” said Mrs. Stapleton in a throbbing voice. “Hiding a foreign sorceress in your bosom, when I have been racking my brains for a sensation to present at Amelia’s coming out! You knew how I felt when your aunt received a Comte and would not allow anyone else to take him about. And when that cunning Mrs. Midsomer harboured a fairy daughter-in-law for months, telling no one, before it was announced in the manner best calculated to make a splash!
“To be sure, she came to no good end,” she added piously. “Which just goes to show that pride comes before a fall. But a native sorceress is nearly as novel as a fairy, and you never told me of her! If your papa had not mentioned his encounter with her, I should not have known she existed.”
Muna was meditating upon a discreet retreat when, to her astonishment, Mrs. Stapleton seized her. The Englishwoman held her by the shoulders, inspecting her as though she were a goat for sale.
“She is quite perfect!” declared Mrs. Stapleton. “Not so pretty as to draw away attention that should rightfully be Amelia’s, but presentable enough. The dress is disappointing. You would not guess she was an Oriental sorceress from her dress. The turban will do, however.”
“I should hope it will do,” said Prunella. She had been stifling giggles behind her fan while Mrs. Stapleton harangued her daughter, but at this liberty she froze up. “It is mine, as is the dress, and they were both shockingly dear. You will oblige me by releasing Miss Muna, Mrs. Stapleton. You will give her curious ideas of English manners!”
“Oh, I do not mind it,” said Muna. She felt sorry for Henrietta, who looked stricken. Muna had often thought she would like to have a mother, but in her imaginings she had never conceived of having a mother like Mrs. Stapleton.
“Oh!” said Mrs. Stapleton, disconcerted. She let Muna go. “You speak English, do you?” She soon rallied, however. “Where is your familiar? Stapleton told me of it—you will recall my husband, Stapleton; he saw you when he called on Mrs. Wythe at the Academy the day before yesterday. I should like to see the creature. Stapleton said it was monstrously strange!”
Casting Henrietta an uneasy look, Muna said her familiar was resting. “It is not accustomed to English weather, and I have not ventured to expose it to the cold, for it is very delicate.”
“In truth, ma’am,” said Prunella, “it was I who ask
ed Miss Stapleton to keep Miss Muna’s arrival a secret. I knew Miss Muna was anxious to avoid notoriety.”
“To become notorious is the last thing I desire,” agreed Muna.
Mrs. Stapleton said, mollified, “That is natural, I suppose. To be made a fuss of is what I, too, cannot endure! Still, it was very wrong in Henrietta to deceive her own mother.”
“I did not set out to deceive you, Mamma,” Henrietta burst out. “If I had known you had any interest in foreign sorceresses, I should have told you about Miss Muna. But I thought you disapproved of magiciennes.”
“Why, magic-making does not do for Englishwomen,” said Mrs. Stapleton. “But I understand these affairs are conducted along different lines in foreign parts.”
To Muna’s relief, Mr. Wythe intervened, clearing his throat. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Stapleton, but there are several people in attendance tonight whom I should like to present to Miss Muna.” He said to Muna, “The Chairman of the Presiding Committee would very much like to meet you.”
“Oh, is Lord Burrow here?” said Mrs. Stapleton. “You will be busy this evening, Mr. Wythe—nothing so wearisome as hosting a ball. You will be glad to have the sorceress—Miss Muna, is it?—taken off your hands. I should be pleased to present Lord Burrow to her. Come with me, my dear. You will not mind the liberty from a woman old enough to be your mother!”
“Mrs. Stapleton!” cried the Sorceress Royal, but Henrietta’s mother was a match even for her. Muna found herself being hurried away before she knew what was happening. Behind her she heard Prunella whisper:
“Henny, if we leave Miss Muna in your mamma’s clutches, we shall have Janda Baik declaring war upon us before we know what we are about!”
Mrs. Stapleton cleaved through the crowded room like a galleon in full sail. Muna tried to wriggle out of her grasp, for she did not in the least desire to be forced upon the attention of strangers by a madwoman, but Mrs. Stapleton was stronger than she looked. Her hand on Muna’s arm was like a vise.
When smoke started to billow from the other end of the room, Muna’s first thought was that the Sorceress Royal and Henrietta must have resorted to magic to create a distraction. It was like the smoke that had attended the polong’s emergence from its bottle, save that that had been red, while this smoke was of various colours—the spectacular greens, yellows and purples of a bruise.
Mrs. Stapleton came to an abrupt stop, her grip loosening in surprise. Slipping away from her, Muna saw Prunella snatch up her staff, and knew the smoke was no hoax.
As it dissipated, it revealed a figure suspended in mid-air. The figure floated to the ground, landing as lightly as a leaf borne on a breeze.
The spirit—for it could be nothing else—stood a full head taller than anyone else in the room, with skin of a sable hue darker than Mr. Wythe’s and a great quantity of long silver hair. He wore a robe of green velvet, stitched all over with tiny gleams of light like miniature stars.
He looked around the room with a quizzical smile, taking in the fainting ladies and red-faced gentlemen.
“So this is England!” he remarked. His gaze fell upon Prunella. “And you, madam, must be England’s Sorceress Royal. You match her description exactly—the only tolerable-looking woman in the room, they said.”
“I am the Sorceress Royal,” said Prunella. She held her staff at the ready, her head raised and eyes alight. “But I do not believe we are acquainted, sir. May I know whom it is I have the honour of addressing?”
The spirit made a courtly bow.
“I am called the Duke of the Navel of the Seas,” he said. “My mistress the Fairy Queen has sent me with a message for you—for Britain and all her friends are in terrible danger!”
11
PRUNELLA
THE FAIRY’S ANNOUNCEMENT was followed by an astonished silence.
Out of the corner of her eye Prunella saw Zacharias lean over to Henrietta, addressing her. Henrietta nodded and slipped away.
That was some comfort, for Henrietta would see to it that the building was secured and the guests sent home as quickly as possible. All that was left for Prunella was to attend to the new arrival.
The Duke of the Navel of the Seas did not seem to feel the least awkwardness. He swept an admiring look over the room, remarking that it was very handsome—almost fit to be compared with some of the lesser chambers of his Queen’s Palace. “I have always admired mortals’ ingenuity in making use of the dimensions perceptible to them. It is remarkable how much is done with so little!”
“I take it very kind in Her Majesty to send us a warning,” said Prunella, ignoring this. “But what is the danger that threatens us?”
“Oh, did I not say?” said the Duke. “It is us.”
Prunella stared. “You?”
“Her Glorious Majesty the Fairy Queen desired me to send you her best compliments,” said the Duke, “and explain that she means to kill all English magicians, burn your spell books and sack your miserable country. Her hunger for revenge will only be sated by the wholesale destruction of English thaumaturgy.”
He concluded this proclamation with another graceful bow. When no answer was immediately forthcoming, he said, “May I take a message back to my mistress, madam?”
One who was less familiar with fairy manners might have concluded from the Duke’s insouciant manner that he could not be serious. But as mistress of two familiars, Prunella was better acquainted with fairykind than most thaumaturges. She adjusted her grip on her staff, deriving some consolation from its solidity. She must not show any fear.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but there must be some mistake,” she said. “Why should the Queen wish to kill us?”
“Oh! It is no slight upon you,” said the Duke reassuringly. “Her Majesty desires the death of all kinds of people, some of the very first consideration. Of course, it is only natural you should have joined those ranks once you stole her Virtu.”
Prunella gaped. “The Fairy Queen accuses me of a theft of her virtue?”
“Do you deny it?”
“But I have never met the Queen in my life!” said Prunella. “Besides, I thought only gentlemen could deprive others of their virtue. Surely a lady only loses hers.”
Zacharias cleared his throat. “I believe His Excellency means that the Fairy Queen has lost an article of virtu.” He turned to the fairy. “Have I understood you, sir?”
“Lost!” sneered the Duke. “It has been stolen, as you know better than anyone! For myself, I blame the family,” he added. “They ought never to have allowed Robert of Threlfall to remain in Britain for so long. Too much exposure to mortals is liable to warp even the finest nature. And now we see the consequences—the scion of an ancient family forgetting himself so far as to rob Her Majesty!”
“You don’t mean Rollo is accused of stealing the Queen’s talisman?” said Prunella, astonished. “That can’t be. Rollo Threlfall has been visiting his relations in Fairy for the past fortnight, and is entirely taken up with agreeing with his elders and being scolded for listing to the left when he flies.”
The Duke raised his eyebrows. “Of course. But the Virtu was entrusted to his family’s safeguarding in Threlfall, as you must know.”
Prunella was about to protest that she had no idea of it, and no reason to have known, having never heard of the Virtu before that day. But then a memory floated to the surface of her mind.
Had not Rollo mentioned an amulet of the Fairy Queen’s, before he left for Threlfall? Perhaps it had been called the Virtu—Prunella could not now recall. Rollo had said the article was in the care of some uncle or other.
She flushed, but said, undeterred, “But that just goes to show how unlikely it is he should have stolen it. Why should Rollo have stolen an article that his family guards for the Fairy Queen? He has the greatest abhorrence of scenes. He would never risk the censure of his relations by such a step.”
“Rollo is the most amiable creature alive,” said Prunella. “He would not dream of stealing from anyone, much less the Queen.”
“Unless he was put up to it!” intoned the Duke. “Know, madam, that Her Majesty has seen all. She knows that Robert of Threlfall is merely a tool—a victim of the schemes of English thaumaturgy. His actions were not his alone, but directed by Britain!”
Prunella exchanged a look with Zacharias. His expression reflected all the dismay she felt. The Fairy Queen was infamously capricious and mistrustful; tales abounded of the once-favoured courtiers she had slaughtered upon suspicion of treachery, the wars she had launched against former allies for petty slights. And Britain was in no state to go to war with Fairy.
One war is bad enough! thought Prunella. If the Fairy Queen’s enmity was added to Bonaparte’s armies, the country would be altogether extinguished.
“So that is why you have come to us,” she said. “I can only deny the charge. Fairy is a valued ally of Britain, whom we would never risk offending by such a crime.
“And,” she added, “I cannot believe Rollo can have stolen the Queen’s talisman either! You cannot be acquainted with him, sir, or you would know how very unlikely it is that he should do anything of the sort.”
“On the contrary, I have met him before. A noble-looking beast, for all his folly.” The Duke shook his head sadly. “I have never seen such an exquisite hide! I advised the Queen to display it at court after his execution, but Her Majesty is so vexed that I should not think there will be enough left for a display.”
“Execution!” cried Zacharias. Prunella’s hand flew to her mouth.
“The Queen has not killed Rollo?” she said, horrified.
“Not yet,” said the Duke. “Her Majesty judged it best that punishment should be dealt at her banquet, in a week’s time.” He sighed. “The consumption of a Threlfall will supply some spectacle, at least, and by devouring him the Queen will take into herself all the magic he possesses. But without the Virtu the ceremony will not be half so effective as Her Majesty had planned.