The True Queen

by Zen Cho

  I have been wronged . . .

  “Are you quite certain you are well?” said Henrietta.

  Muna nodded, but she regretted it, for it made her head swim. “It was only a passing faintness. I am not used to your spirits,” she added apologetically. “But they were most obliging! As hospitable as their mortal countryfellows.”

  Henrietta took a deep breath. “So you called upon the spirits for their aid. I thought that was what you must be doing. I have rarely felt such a burst of magic! I never had the pleasure of meeting Mak Genggang, but I see now Prunella did not overstate her powers, nor yours.”

  She looked at Muna with shining eyes, so admiring that Muna felt ashamed, for it was not her own powers that had enabled her to address the fine ones. Before she could mutter a disclaimer, Henrietta said eagerly:

  “The spell caught, of course—I felt it. What did you see?”

  The red gleam of the serpent’s eyes, drowned in seawater.

  “I saw the past,” said Muna. She was grateful that it would seem natural to pause. What ought she to say? She scarcely understood the meaning of the vision she had been vouchsafed—but she must decide now what it was safe to confide in the English.

  Conscious of the expectant eyes on her, Muna opened her mouth. But she was granted a reprieve, for just then the door burst open. The girls looked up at once, with all the alertness of schoolchildren at any permissible distraction.

  “I beg pardon for the intrusion, Henny,” said Prunella, but she was looking at Muna. “Might I speak with Miss Muna? It concerns a matter of some urgency—I am told it cannot wait.”

  14

  THE SORCERESS ROYAL held a letter in her hand as she led Muna out of the classroom—a letter Muna recognised. She followed Prunella into a sitting room, her heart beating quickly.

  Prunella shut the door, turning to face her.

  “I am sorry to have taken you away from your lesson, Miss Muna,” she said. “But a zephyr gave me this message. It said it was urgent, and you were the author.”

  “I thought you would wish to know at once,” explained Muna. She could not discern any anxiety in the Sorceress Royal’s countenance. She felt a frisson of worry. The Sorceress Royal had spoken of Rollo with fondness, but would her affection extend so far as to risk herself—and Britain—on his behalf? Rollo had seemed to have no doubt of Prunella’s readiness to help, but it was no small thing he asked.

  “I doubted whether I would have the opportunity to see you,” added Muna, “so I thought a letter would be best. I hope I did not do wrong?”

  She was relieved to see a smile illuminate Prunella’s countenance. Frustrated as Muna had been by the sorceress’s elusiveness, she could not deny the effect of Prunella’s smile—it was candid and warm, wholly disarming. Muna began to see how the Sorceress Royal had got away with setting English thaumaturgy at defiance.

  “Oh no! I am very much obliged to you. It was an excellent notion and I daresay the letter is elegantly written. Only,” said Prunella apologetically, “I am afraid I do not read Arabic.” She unfolded the paper.

  It was true. In Muna’s hurry and distraction she had written in what came most naturally to her pen—the Jawi script that employed Arabic letters to represent Malay speech. The language was correct and courteous, but it was no wonder the Sorceress Royal had not understood it. Muna’s hands flew to her cheeks.

  “I am sorry! What a stupid thing to have done!”

  “On the contrary,” said Prunella, “it requires considerable wit to write a letter in the wrong language by mistake. But will you tell me what it says? I have been consumed with curiosity all morning! I should have come sooner if not for that plaguey Duke.”

  Muna acquainted her with Rollo’s tale, and saw at once that she need not have feared that Prunella would feel any reluctance to act. The Sorceress Royal was all sympathy and indignation.

  “Poor, poor Damerell!” she cried. “We must certainly help him. Thank heavens you had the presence of mind to warn Rollo not to seek me out. Suppose he had come and the Duke had caught him!” She shuddered. “We should never persuade the Duke we were not conspiring with Threlfall against the Queen then.”

  “Is the Duke at your house now?”

  Prunella shook her head. “Lord Burrow is showing him the Society. If any thaumaturge were so idiotish as to steal the Fairy Queen’s amulet, he might be just stupid enough to think the Society a good place to hide it. But I am certain the Duke will find nothing. And if he does, why, we shall simply be obliged to hang the thaumaturge that did it!”

  She did not seem overly exercised by the prospect.

  “Would not you mind hanging an Englishman?” ventured Muna.

  Prunella looked contemplative. “Well! It would depend on the Englishman. I can think of several . . . but it is nothing to do with my preferences. We would hardly have a choice if it was that, or being embroiled in a war with Fairy. But we need not worry about it now. The question is, what shall we do about Damerell and Rollo?”

  She rolled Muna’s letter up and tapped her lips with it.

  “What we need is a daring rescue!” declared the Sorceress Royal. “You said Rollo gave you the key to his aunt Georgiana’s cavern?”

  There was not the least shadow of doubt in Prunella’s large eyes. Muna’s conscience misgave her. She wished she had written her letter in English, for the falsehood had tripped off her pen more easily than it would come now.

  But the thought of Sakti hardened her resolve. Even now her sister was lost in the Unseen Realm. Who knew what might have become of her? It was Muna’s duty to adopt any course to get there, since the polong could not—or would not—take her. Any trickery, any underhand stratagem, was justified if it would help her find her sister.

  She cast her eyes down, hoping this would be taken for maidenly embarrassment, or a foreigner’s awkwardness, or anything but what it was—shame at deceiving her hostess.

  “Mr. Threlfall told me to swallow it,” she said. “He said that would unlock my eyes, so I would be able to see through the wards around his aunt’s cave.”

  “I wonder he was willing to involve you in his difficulties!” said Prunella. “It’s most unlike Rollo. He is perfectly happy to impose upon his friends—poor Zacharias is always being dragged into his difficulties—but no one could be more disinclined to trouble a stranger.”

  Internally Muna writhed in torment, but she managed to summon up a smile in answer to the Sorceress Royal’s clear-eyed gaze. “He thought I would be a useful addition to a delegation to Threlfall, since I have experience of the Unseen World.”

  This sounded pitiably weak to Muna, but Prunella only nodded. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement.

  “Yes, indeed,” she said; she was too distracted by the prospect of adventure to question Muna. “And will you come? No mortal has ever been admitted to Threlfall’s caverns and lived to tell the tale! Save Damerell, of course—and one can hardly call him a mortal anymore, what with his connection with Rollo. He has not aged a day since he turned eight-and-thirty.

  “You must not feel obliged to consent,” Prunella added as an afterthought. “I should do all I could to keep you safe from harm, but you will know better than most what dangers lie in the Other Realm. You would be wholly within your rights to refuse.”

  “I should be pleased to come, only—” Muna hesitated. “Do you mean to go yourself, Mrs. Wythe?”

  “Of course!” said Prunella, surprised. “I could not ask anyone else to risk themselves in Threlfall. Rollo’s relations are the sort of dragons other dragons tell their children about, to frighten them into being good.”

  It was hardly Muna’s place to remind the Sorceress Royal of her duties, and there would be certain advantages to being accompanied by a sorceress to the Unseen Realm. Still, thinking of the scholars she had left behind in the classroom, Muna said, “But will not you be nee
ded here in England?”

  “Zacharias can manage while I am away,” said Prunella, dismissing England. “I shall be discreet; we must not risk provoking the Fairy Court further. Perhaps if I assume a disguise . . .”

  “I have a better idea,” said a voice, startling them both. “You ought to send me!”

  Muna and Prunella whipped around. Henrietta stood in the doorway, flushed at her own boldness.

  “Why, Henny,” said Prunella, delighted, “were you listening at the door? How shocking!”

  Henrietta flung back her head. “What if I was? I am sure I have caught you eavesdropping dozens of times!”

  “But now you can never scold me for it again,” said Prunella with satisfaction. “Pray shut the door; we don’t want all the school insisting upon coming along. I should be pleased to have you if Damerell were here and could teach your classes. But what will the scholars do without you? For Zacharias will be busy dancing attendance upon the Duke, and it is not as though we could rely upon Clarissa. I should not have agreed to take her if I had not known you would be there to watch over her.”

  Henrietta closed the door. She did not join Prunella and Muna where they sat but hovered just inside the threshold, smoothing down her dress. She met the Sorceress Royal’s eyes.

  “I don’t mean that I wish to come with you, Prunella,” she said. “I meant that I should go in your place.”

  Prunella’s eyebrows drew together in a manner that—even to Muna, who scarcely knew her—presaged a storm.

  “In my place?” she repeated.

  Henrietta looked desperately nervous, but she said, “Come, Prunella, you must see that the idea of your charging off to Threlfall is absurd!”

  “Is it, indeed?” said Prunella silkily. “We shall see what Zacharias thinks about that!”

  * * *

  • • •

  “THE Sorceress Royal to abandon England now, in her hour of need!” said Mr. Wythe. “It is out of the question. I am surprised you should have considered it for a moment.”

  Muna shrank back into the sofa, wincing. Not for the first time in the past trying hour, she wished she were really a witch, so that she could make herself invisible.

  There had been some delay before Mr. Wythe arrived in response to his wife’s summons, and in that time Prunella and Henrietta had quarrelled without pause, descending to astonishing depths of schoolgirl pettiness. It did not appear that this had in any way slaked Prunella’s thirst for battle. She gave Zacharias a look of burning reproach.

  “Will you allow Damerell to be sacrificed to the Fairy Queen?” she demanded. “He is your oldest friend!”

  “By no means,” said Zacharias. “But there is no reason you should go yourself.”

  “But Rollo asked for me,” Prunella protested. “Miss Muna, you will confirm it! Rollo begged for my help, you said.”

  Muna had been dreading this. She cleared her throat.

  “It is true Mr. Threlfall hoped you might come,” she began.

  “There!” said Prunella triumphantly.

  Muna was relieved when Zacharias intervened.

  “Be reasonable, Prunella,” he said. “How could we account for your departure to the Duke? I would not be surprised if he took it as an admission of guilt. At the very least it would seem an insult.”

  “And what if Rollo’s relations discovered you had aided Mr. Damerell’s escape?” said Henrietta eagerly. “Threlfall is a friend to Britain, but any friendly feeling could not survive such a blow. We must avoid provoking our Fairy allies, now of all times.”

  “You may scoff all you like, my love,” said Zacharias, for the Sorceress Royal was scowling. “But you represent English thaumaturgy. Anything you do implicates our profession—indeed, the entire kingdom.”

  “It is as I said, you see,” said Henrietta. “You are far too celebrated to undertake this venture, but I am dispensable—”

  “Dispensable!”

  “Yes, I am,” snapped Henrietta, “and I shall shake you if you don’t stop making that face, Prunella, see if I don’t! It is most undignified in a sorceress. You have a duty to look after yourself and not hare off on any adventure that strikes your fancy. Do not you think so, Miss Muna?”

  Miss Muna had no opinion on the matter that she wished to share. But fortunately she was not called upon to equivocate, for Prunella said:

  “Oh yes, I am a monster of selfishness, not wishing to send my dearest friend into a nest of ravening dragons! You have not considered the danger, Henny.”

  “You might credit me with some modicum of sense,” said Henrietta with hauteur. “I am not a complete mooncalf, and I have heard all the same stories of Fairy as you have.”

  Prunella opened her mouth, but before she could reply, Henrietta said passionately, “Think! If you were to die in Fairy, when do you think we should next have a Sorceress Royal? Or do you intend to be the last?”

  Muna glanced at the Sorceress Royal. Prunella could not have looked more shocked if Henrietta had slapped her. She sat staring, her lips pale.

  “No,” she said finally. “You know I hope to be only the first of many magiciennes.”

  “Then I wish you would attend to your counsellors,” said Henrietta. She took Prunella’s hand, smiling. “Come, there’s no call to look so mumchance! What did you become Sorceress Royal for, if not to be accounted more important than the rest of us?”

  “You know perfectly well it was Zacharias who forced the staff upon me,” said Prunella crossly, but she was defeated. After a moment she said, “You are always most provoking when you are right, Henny. Very well! Zacharias must go.”

  “No,” said Henrietta, before Mr. Wythe could speak. “I shall go. The Fairy Court knows Mr. Wythe, since he was Sorcerer Royal before you. No one in Fairy has any notion who I am.”

  She raised defiant eyes to Mr. Wythe, who said:

  “I have no doubt of your abilities, nor of your courage, Miss Stapleton. But you should know the nature of the venture to which you are committing yourself. We could give no assurances of your safety in Threlfall—and should you be discovered, we would be obliged to disclaim your actions. We cannot afford a war with Fairy now. To prevent that, any sacrifice must be made. Do you understand?”

  Henrietta was pale, but she squared her shoulders, raising her chin. “Sir, I do.”

  It had not been the right time to speak before, but now Muna gathered up her courage.

  “It is not as though Miss Stapleton will go alone,” she said. “I shall accompany her.”

  She was touched by how Henrietta’s face brightened at this.

  “Will you?” said Henrietta, turning to her. “That is very good of you! It will be a great help, for of course you have been to Fairy before.”

  But this was the first time Mr. Wythe had heard that Muna was to go to Threlfall and the notion was evidently unwelcome to him. “There is no reason you should risk yourself in this enterprise!” he said.

  “But we could not do it without her,” said Prunella. “Oh, I forgot we did not tell you about the key to Georgiana’s cavern!”

  Mr. Wythe was not appeased by her explanation, however.

  “I beg you will not think we are not grateful for your offer,” he said to Muna. “But we have not, I hope, reached such straits as to need to send our scholars into danger. Mak Genggang entrusted you to our care, and she would not thank us for involving her protégée in our difficulties. I am sure we could extract the key from you easily enough.”

  Muna did not precisely wish to go to Threlfall; if she had not known before that the journey would be fraught with peril, the English magicians’ argument would have enlightened her. They clearly thought it a desperate scheme. But it was Muna’s best chance of returning to the Unseen Realm and finding her sister. If she did not go—if Sakti was lost to her forever—

  Her mind sh
ied away from the prospect. She had not been parted from Sakti since they had found each other on the shores of Janda Baik. Muna did not know who she was without Sakti; the thought that she might never see her sister again was intolerable. Her fear meant nothing compared to that.

  “You will not take the key from me,” she said. It was only when she saw the astonishment on the English magicians’ faces that she realised she had clenched her fists. She unclenched them, adding, “Sir. Mr. Threlfall entrusted it to me. He felt my presence would be of use.”

  “It’s clear Rollo has taken a liking to Miss Muna,” said Prunella to Zacharias. “I expect he has persuaded himself she is a sort of lucky charm, and no rescue attempt could come off without she is there. You know how superstitious magical creatures are—my Youko and Tjandra are overcome by such presentiments all the time. Though it seems whimsical, it always answers to follow their instincts. I should not like to ignore Rollo’s intuition—we should be sorry for it, depend upon it!”

  “I don’t wish to dismiss Rollo’s instincts,” said Zacharias, “but they are feeble grounds for sending Miss Muna into danger.”

  “You have forgotten one thing, sir,” said Muna. She clasped her hands so they would not tremble and give her away. “I wish to go to Threlfall. I have longed to return to the Hidden World since I arrived.”

  “But why?” said Mr. Wythe, perplexed.

  “Why not?” said Prunella.

  Henrietta was the first to remember what reason Muna might have for wishing to return to the Unseen Realm. She said gently, “Miss Muna, you should know that Threlfall is one of the most heavily guarded provinces of Fairy Within. No mortal has ever entered that country without an invitation from one of the family. It is very unlikely your sister will be there.”

  Muna said in a low voice, “I know. Still, I should like to go.”

  “Oh!” said Prunella contritely. “I am sorry, Miss Muna! How stupid of us!”

  Muna only nodded. She was watching Mr. Wythe, for she had seen the doubt that crossed his face.