Fairest

  “The fairy Lucinda,” Skulni said, “who commands the mirror and thinks she commands me.”

  Lucinda was tall and stately, with long auburn hair, peacock-blue eyes, and generous full lips, far fairer than either Ivi or I in our beautified states.

  Ivi saw the fairy reflected in the oval mirror. She turned and cowered.

  Lucinda’s lips moved, and miracle of miracles, I could hear her. “I am the fairy Lucinda. I adore weddings.”

  Ivi curtsied unsteadily.

  “Darling,” Lucinda said, “no need to be afraid. I’m here to give you a gift. This gift—”

  “I wish you would make me as beautiful as you are.” Ivi drew back, as if scared by her own audacity.

  Lucinda smiled. “Darling, everyone is beautiful in her own way, and I am a fairy.” She paused, then nodded. “I’ll give you what you desire. My gift will make you as exquisite as you may be.” She held out her hand, palm up. The magic mirror appeared atop her palm, and atop the mirror, the two vials of potion materialized. “Take it all.”

  Ivi accepted the gift in trembling hands.

  “The potion bottles will refill themselves after they’ve been drained. You may make your betrothed as handsome as he can be, too, if you like, and anyone else, if your nature is generous.”

  I saw Ivi read the potion labels. She placed the mirror and the Disguises potion carefully on her washstand. Then she unstoppered the beauty-potion vial and drank.

  The scene changed again.

  Lucinda’s face filled the mirror and beamed at Skulni and me. “Drinker of my potion,” she said, “you have lived a happy life, beautiful into your old age.”

  “Fairy Lucinda,” I said, my heart pounding, “I did not grow old.”

  Skulni said, “It’s the fairy’s speech to new arrivals. She can’t hear you.” He laughed. “She rarely listens even when she can. She spoke this to the first to die after owning me, the only one to live to a great age.” He paused. “I was inexperienced then.”

  “Now you will enjoy the last benefit of the potions,” Lucinda said. “Your existence will be extended in the mirror while Skulni has his much-deserved holiday. You shall remain here until I give the gift again. Then Skulni will return, and you will go to your final death. If you were generous with my gift, you will not be alone for long. The other potion drinkers will join you when they die.”

  Lucinda’s face vanished, and the mirror’s surface became blank. Skulni said, “The beautified reflection is my most useful power. It was my bait with you.”

  And I had taken it. “What did you want with me?”

  “Surely you’ve worked that out by now. You’re not a simpleton.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Then I understood. The wicked, despicable bug! “You monster! You wanted me to drink the potion so Ivi would kill me and you’d have your holiday.”

  He smiled. “Just so. I was also trying to bring about Her High High Highness’s death. The rebellion, you know. Whichever of you died first would do.” He rose from his chair and went to the door. “And now I take my leave.”

  I watched him, paralyzed with horror. I should have taken his seat, but I didn’t think of it.

  He could no more turn the doorknob than I could. He faced me, his face red with rage. “You misbegotten lump, you hell cow, you miscreation …”

  I fled to the opposite wall, as far from him as could be.

  “You wouldn’t drink all the potion, and now I’m imprisoned with you.”

  I hoped that wasn’t why. I hoped it was because I was still alive.

  The fury faded from his face. “It will be amusing when the queen dies and she joins you.” He sighed. “Since you haven’t released me, I’ll have to cause her death.” He sat again.

  My mouth was dry. “How?”

  “Oh, I have many methods. I’ve caused duels, wars, even famines.”

  “How will you make her do what you want?”

  He smiled. “Exactly as I did before. Her Majesty is child’s play. She craves admiration, which is easily given. She craves love even more, and that I can pretend to. These strategies are usually enough. But if she continues to resist my suggestions, I threaten to take away her beauty. That always succeeds with her.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  THE ROOM SPUN. I sank to the floor.

  Take away her beauty … I wondered what Skulni might have persuaded me into to preserve my own beauty.

  Not murder. No, but how much better than Ivi was I, really?

  Skulni said, “I didn’t have to threaten anything to persuade her to kill you. Her own jealousy was quite enough. I only had to help her find the courage to do the deed.”

  “What will you have her do to cause her own death?”

  “Hmm …” He leaned back and stared up at the ceiling.

  I followed his eyes. The beige had darkened to gray, and the corners were obscured by shadow. Day was waning.

  My body in Gnome Caverns was weakening. I felt my pulse slow.

  He said dreamily, “I believe I’ll get Her High High Highness executed.”

  I sat up straight. “How?”

  “I’ll persuade her to kill someone in the castle. Surely they’ll execute her for that.”

  I could hardly make my mouth form the word. “Who?”

  “I have three candidates in mind: your friend Uju, the king, and your prince.”

  I jumped up, vibrating with distress. “Not Ijori.”

  He began to laugh.

  “Not any of them!” I pulled my paring knife from my reticule. I would stop him from doing more harm.

  He laughed harder, and I knew I couldn’t hurt him.

  When he finished laughing, he said, “Of course, His Majesty might do my work for me when he recovers. He might execute her for killing you.”

  “But he won’t know what she did.”

  “He may have heard every word his wife spoke at his bedside. It’s happened before. I know of several cases.” Skulni shrugged. “But I fear His Majesty’s doting heart will stop him doling out the ultimate punishment. I shan’t wait.”

  How could I dissuade Ivi from more murder attempts? She’d never listened to me in the past, but perhaps I could think of something to make her listen. “When will the queen return?”

  He looked at me sharply. “Why do you wish to know?”

  “I want to prepare myself for the sight of her.”

  “Ah. In two days, more or less. She has a horse. I’m hoping she meets up with an ogre.”

  If an ogre ate her, she’d arrive here, in the mirror, and everyone else would be out of danger.

  I sought a way to foil Skulni if she came home safely. If only I could warn Ijori! I tried to will myself out of the mirror, to wherever he might be. If I was an apparition, why couldn’t I float where I wanted? Feeling ridiculous, I jumped—and landed hard.

  Skulni laughed at me.

  Twilight was almost over.

  “What happens at night?” I kept the tremble out of my voice, but I was frightened at the prospect of being alone in the dark with him.

  “Nothing. We wait. Here, waiting is our lot.”

  A whimper escaped me.

  A sob.

  “Tears are tedious.”

  I wept. Apparition though I was, I could produce buckets of tears. Ijori would never again comfort me when I cried. I thought of Mother and Father and Areida and my brothers. I thought of all the songs I wouldn’t write and wouldn’t sing. I thought of zhamM. But mostly I thought of Ijori. Ijori. Dear heart. Sweet. Ijori. Dear heart. Sweet.

  When I finally dried my eyes, I thought dawn would be beginning. But our chamber was as dark as ever.

  In the dark, where I couldn’t see or be seen, I considered beauty and ugliness.

  My ugliness had persuaded Sir Uellu I was part ogre. It had caused people—guests at the Featherbed, villagers in Amonta, courtiers and servants here in the castle—to be rude and cruel.

  I’d had no chance to be beautiful
in everyday circumstances, to be admired at the castle or at the Featherbed. Perhaps I would love the admiration, or perhaps it would bring less pleasure than I expected. Without doubt my beauty had prevented Uju from killing me, and I’d certainly enjoyed seeing myself beautiful in a mirror.

  The pursuit of beauty, however, had been disastrous. The pursuit of beauty had turned me to stone. It had left me with a marble toe and had brought me here.

  “You might sing to me,” Skulni said. “It will pass the time.”

  I wouldn’t.

  “If you won’t, I will.” He sang in a whiny, singsong voice:

  “I never sing myself to sleep,

  For plotting keeps me busy:

  Whom to kill and how to woo

  The foolish heart that owns me.

  “I’ll stop if you’ll sing.”

  I sang a riddle. Perhaps solving it would keep him quiet awhile. As soon as I began to sing, I felt better, stronger.

  “I sharpen ears

  And weaken eyes—

  Who am I?

  “Thieves love me

  Though I steal nothing—

  Who am I?

  “I linger long in winter,

  In summer I’m too soon gone—

  Who am I?

  “The silver queen rules me.

  I light her candles—

  Who am I?

  “Cereus is my flower,

  The owl is my bird—

  Who am I?”

  Skulni said, “Easy. I might have needed a moment’s thought if you’d sung during the day.”

  He’d gotten it. He was quick.

  “Sing more,” he said.

  “I will if you’ll give me a turn in your chair.” I wanted to determine what Ivi saw from now on. Perhaps I could persuade her to shatter the mirror, although its destruction might be the end of me.

  So be it. My body would stop breathing soon anyway.

  “You may try the chair at dawn if you’ll sing until then.”

  I began. He played on human failings. I sang every song I knew of human virtue. I sang of friendship, love, humor, kindness, self-sacrifice.

  As I sang, I felt strong enough to fly. I wondered if my real body back in Gnome Caverns was mending. But no, I could feel it losing ground, the merest trace of air trickling down its windpipe.

  Dawn came eventually.

  I stopped singing. If I’d been in my real body, I’d have had a sore throat. “Stand up,” I said. “Let me try the chair.”

  He laughed. “You believed me, and I had a night of beautiful music. Ivi believed—”

  I rushed at him. I had to sit in his chair, or I couldn’t talk to her. I tried to push him off. He tried to push me away. But we were empty clothing fighting, no muscle, no sinew.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  I RETREATED TO MY station by the curtains and battled with despair. Another day and a half until Ivi returned. It didn’t matter when she came if I could do nothing.

  Hours passed. Skulni sat, motionless, staring at the mirror. If I started him talking, I might learn something I could use.

  “Have you been owned by Ayorthaians before?”

  “Twenty-seven Ayorthaians, twenty-four of them female, none such an eyesore as you were.”

  Thank you. “Have you influenced Ayorthaian history?”

  “I should say so. Your civil war over the king’s council? I had a hand in that.” He chuckled. “And before the civil war, your Queen Ursalu was one of my owners.”

  “She was assassinated!”

  “Easily contrived.” He laughed harder. “The fairy Lucinda has never once inquired into what I do. What a fool she is.”

  What a venomous spider he was.

  He went on. He seemed to have been behind every tragedy and catastrophe in our history.

  When he was finally done, I asked, “What do you do when you’re in the world?”

  “Travel. I dislike being confined. I like to eat. I seek out new foods, excellent …”

  He told me every kind of food he preferred. He named every inn that served a fine this or a fine that.

  I gasped. “You were Master Ikulni! You came to the Featherbed!”

  “The Featherbed? Hart with fire peppers? So tasty. I’ve never tasted—”

  “Your money vanished after you left.”

  He laughed merrily. “The Featherbed!”

  Night fell at last. We spent it in silence. I felt my body in Gnome Caverns fade by degrees.

  Daylight returned. My third day in the mirror. Perhaps Ivi would arrive soon.

  The breakfast hour came and went.

  In Gnome Caverns I felt my heart falter and beat again, falter and beat.

  Noon came and went.

  I heard footsteps. Ivi’s voice. “No. I need nothing, only solitude. I need to be alone.”

  A woman’s voice. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  I heard the door close. My heart here pounded in my ears. Ivi’s face—her human face, not her gnome face—appeared in the mirror-window. A tear splattered on the glass. She was crying down on us.

  “Oh, Skulni, come. Come.”

  “Your High High Highness, your lowly servant attends you.”

  “I killed her, didn’t I? Did she really die?”

  “You are the fairest once again.”

  I called out, “Ivi! I’m here.”

  She didn’t hear me. “How could I have killed her? I used to like her so much. When she was the oaf, she was my friend.”

  The oaf!

  She must have picked up the mirror. I felt no sense of movement, but my view of the ceiling around her face slid away, replaced by tapestry and wall. She continued to weep.

  I yelled louder. “Ivi! Listen! Ivi!”

  Again she didn’t hear.

  “My brave, brave queen, the oaf wouldn’t have made herself beautiful if she had truly been your friend.”

  “But now she’s dead. I’d have been content if she’d grown oafish again.”

  “Mourn her, my queen. I’d think less of you if you did not.”

  “I loved my poor oaf.”

  “Your loving heart is speaking. Your clever mind knows the beautiful Aza was your rival.”

  “That’s true.” She wiped her eyes. “She was my rival. She kissed Ijori.”

  “And he wished to marry her.”

  “She deserved to die.”

  “Your High High Highness, your lowly servant is worried for you.”

  She frowned. “Why? The oaf is dead, and you’re watching out for me, and you’ll always be faithful.”

  “And why will I always be faithful?”

  She answered promptly. I could tell she’d said this many times. “Because you worship at my face.”

  Sickening!

  “Yes,” Skulni said, “I do. I’m worried because of the guard Uju. He is a danger to you.”

  Not Ijori! I felt a rush of joy and then shame. I didn’t want Uju to die.

  “How is he a danger?”

  “You instructed him to kill your oaf.”

  “I didn’t!”

  “Not in so many words, but you promised to knight him if she died in his company. And you failed to knight him.”

  “He didn’t kill her!”

  “Yes, but he may be angry, perhaps angry enough to speak against you.”

  It was believable, maybe even true. I stood over Skulni, rising on my toes in frustration. Then I felt my heart in Gnome Caverns stop. A dozen seconds passed before it beat again.

  On that beat I had an idea. I illused my voice over Skulni’s mouth. “Your Majesty? It’s Aza.” Your oaf. I sang, “I’m in the magic mirror.” As I sang, I felt my strength rise again.

  Skulni waved his hand in front of his mouth, trying to erase my voice.

  I illused and sang, “Skulni doesn’t want you to know I’m here.”

  “Aza? Where are you?”

  I sang, “In the mirror.” As I sang, I looked down, trying to think of what to say. “Here, in the mirro
r.” It was then that I noticed the carpet. While I sang, my feet sank into it. I had weight! I stopped singing. The carpet pile sprang back. Singing gave me true strength.

  Ivi cried, “Are you still beautiful?”

  “My queen,” Skulni said, “don’t—”

  I slid my voice over his. “He’s trying to get you killed. He lied to you. He—”

  She screamed, “Are you still beautiful?”

  I sang, no longer illusing, “Go away! Move! Go away!” I pushed Skulni off his chair. He was lighter than dust. I saw his startled face, creasing into fury.

  I sat. The chair felt like an ordinary chair, but as soon as I was seated, I was linked to the mirror. It became as much a part of me as my hands, and using it was as easy as pointing. I thought what I wanted Ivi to see in the mirror. The image came to mind. I projected it.

  First I showed her my former face.

  She began to smile. “Aza!”

  I showed her my present self and sang, “I’m still beautiful.”

  “Aza!” Her face dropped away, and her chamber swung by. I saw the ceiling again. Then I saw her hems and her slipper with its sharp heel coming our way.

  Yes!

  Was I about to die?

  The slipper pounded on the mirror-window. It didn’t break. Pounded again. Again. She was stamping on it.

  But she couldn’t smash it.

  She tried other ways. She swung the mirror into her doorknob. She attacked it with her paring knife.

  At my side, Skulni bowed and smiled a spider’s smile.

  I heard her shrieking, “I can’t break you. Why can’t I break you? Skulni, why can’t I break you?”

  I sang, “He wants to get you executed, so he—”

  “Aza?” Her face was back. “After you died, you went into the mirror? With Skulni?”

  I said yes.

  “If I kill myself, will I be with you, too? Will I be?”

  Skulni thrust his head next to mine and answered, “Yes, my queen. I’ve been longing for you.”

  “Then I’ll do it. Skulni wants me, not you.”

  “No!” I cried.

  She must have put us down. The mirror-window showed only the ceiling. Skulni crossed his arms, grinning mightily.

  She was back. I saw her hands, pouring white powder into a tumbler.