I wondered if she was telling the truth. “How does the king fare?”
“He passed a peaceful night.” She sat up and positioned herself to accept the breakfast tray on her legs.
I placed it and poured ostumo into her mug from the linen-wrapped silver urn. I scanned the room for Skulni. There it was on the dressing table, unharmed. I went to the table on the pretext of straightening her jumble of perfumes and creams. I saw only my ordinary reflection.
Shards of porcelain littered the hearthstone. I swept them up with a whisk broom.
“Thank you, Lady Aza.” She wet her lips. “I had a clumsy accident last night. So clumsy of me. Thank you for my breakfast and for my voice last evening.” She smiled up at me. “I beg your forgiveness. You gave me a voice beyond compare, and in return I blamed you for my song. It was unforgivable, yet I hope you’ll forgive me.” She waited for me to speak.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” I sounded stiff and angry, so I made myself smile.
She put down her cup. “My dear, have you been to the tailor yet?”
“W-what? Er, I beg your pardon, Your Majesty.”
She laughed. “As my lady-in-waiting you’ll need a new wardrobe.”
A new wardrobe hadn’t occurred to me. It would be heavenly—if the price hadn’t been my honesty.
“We can go to the tailor together.” Her face was eager. “Oh, Aza! It will be such fun! I’m a connoisseur of fashion. My taste is impeccable.”
I didn’t want her to accompany me to the tailor, and I certainly didn’t want her there when the seamstress measured me.
She moved the tray off her legs and bounced out of bed. “I wish I could hold a ball, as we do in Kyrria. You’d wear a new gown, and so would I.”
She began to dance with an invisible partner. Step, step, glide. Glide, glide, dip. She tilted her head and smiled coquettishly.
She stopped. “I was going to ask Oscaro for a ball. Now I can’t. I miss him, Aza. I miss my lord.” She went to the window and looked out.
I straightened her counterpane.
“Aza … do you think the prince has the look of a king? Is he regal enough?”
“I-I don’t know.” My temples were pounding.
She was still looking out the window. “Those ears. Those absurd ears. I wish I could find a fairy to shrink them.” She laughed. “But he has more hair than Oscaro, and my subjects know him, and he is a prince already.”
She was choosing her second husband, the king’s successor!
She faced me. “Your eyes are as big as melons, Aza. More than anyone, I hope my lord will live. He loves me, so of course I want him to live. But I have an advisor, who also loves me, and this advisor tells me that, if the king does not live, I must marry again, for the good of Ayortha.”
Who was her advisor?
She giggled. “And for my own good, I’d like my husband to have nice ears.”
My own ears were hot enough to start a fire.
On our way to the Great Hall, we passed the serving maid Isoli, who was carrying a tray. She was the maid who’d knocked into me in the kitchen. When she was out of earshot, Ivi said, “How pretty the wench was. Did you think her pretty?”
I said I did. I wished I was half so pretty.
“Did you notice her complexion? Was it as clear as my own?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty.”
“Oh? You think her complexion might be as fine as mine?” Her voice was dangerous.
I began to worry for Isoli. Ivi’s claws came out with no warning. Acting the fawning flatterer, I said, “Hers must not be as fine, because yours is perfect.”
“You are a dear.”
We continued down the corridor. I found pity mixing with my fear of Ivi. Yes, she was ruthless, but she was also fretful and discordant. How did she endure herself?
I had a fright before we reached the tailor. Sir Uellu saw us enter the Great Hall and approached. I wanted to run and hide. The sight of him made me feel like the greatest criminal in Ayortha.
He bowed to us, which made me feel worse. I curtsied. The queen inclined her head.
He inquired into our health. Ivi answered that we were in good health and were bolstering our spirits by selecting my new wardrobe.
He nodded absently, then said, “Your Majesty, you and Lady Aza have uncommonly fine voices. I should love to hear you sing a duet.”
A duet! I couldn’t!
Ivi smiled graciously. “We will prepare something for you.”
I’d have to tell her I couldn’t illuse a duet. It wasn’t possible.
I was so shaken, I heard nothing else the choirmaster said, although he and Ivi chatted for several minutes. Then he took his leave, and we continued to the tailor.
He and his four seamstresses were set up near a tall window that provided good light for their work. Their stall was bustling. A woman was being fitted for a gown. Another was sketching a design with a seamstress. Several more were going through bolts of fabric.
The tailor bowed to Ivi, then to me. I raised my hand to block my face.
Ivi said, “My dear friend Lady Aza is in need of six gowns, underclothes, three sleeping costumes, and a cloak—all in the finest fabrics.”
How could I afford so many things?
“Lady Aza is to be garbed as a maiden of rank.”
At that, the women in the booth stared at me. I wanted to be elsewhere, anywhere—in the branches of a tree, in a cave, stuck in a window.
“Spare no expense. The crown will pay.”
I stammered out my thanks as everyone watched.
The tailor made a show of looking me over. “I cannot help your friend if she wishes this sort of apparel.” He gestured at my gown.
“No!” I said. “Not this sort.”
“Then perhaps we can do something.” He called to one of the seamstresses, who led me behind a screen to undress and be measured.
To my great relief, Ivi didn’t follow us. The seamstress, Mistress Audra, was pleasant. “This must be such a treat for Milady,” she said, “picking out your wardrobe. The gown you are wearing now was not of your choosing, yes?”
“Yes!” I said fervently.
“My goodness! You are as tall as our screen.” She unrolled her tape measure.
I had to crouch for her to measure the length of my neck. She said nothing, but she exclaimed, “Ayortha!” when she measured its circumference.
I flinched.
When she measured the distance from my neck to my shoulder, she said, “Prodigious!” Then she sang, loud enough for half the Hall to hear, “Milady, you are vast.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MISTRESS AUDRA CONTINUED measuring. After several minutes she burst out, “Lady Aza, it is not very interesting to be a seamstress, and then someone like you—”
I hummed in my mind to drown her out, but I heard her anyway.
“I measure you, and being a seamstress is fascinating. How will we subdue those hips? How will we narrow that tree-trunk waist? How will we—”
Ivi poked her head around the screen. “I must run to a meeting of the king’s council.” She made pouty lips. “It will be tedious, I’m sure.” She brightened. “But I’ve left fabrics for you to consider.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I can’t wait to see you in your new things.” She left.
“So terrible, what befell the king,” Mistress Audra said. “I once measured him for a doublet. King Oscaro has a big heart in a narrow chest. You are finished, Milady. I’ll wait outside.”
I dressed and emerged from behind the screen.
Mistress Audra was at the fabrics table. “Come, Milady. See the fine fabrics Queen Ivi has selected for you.”
I liked everything she’d chosen. Each fabric was rich, but none was gaudy. My favorite was a midnight-blue brocade with a ribbon design in an almost imperceptibly lighter shade of blue. I also loved a violet silk so smooth that touching it felt like touching water.
br />
I spent a while longer with Mistress Audra, going over patterns. I picked the simplest fashions in gowns and headdresses, until she complained. “Milady, this is boring. No lace or bows on your head, no puffed sleeves or trains in your gown. People will look at you and go to sleep.”
Sleep would be an improvement over the usual reaction, but I agreed to let Mistress Audra add a few embellishments.
“Very modest. Very discreet. I understand. Milady prefers to make an understatement.”
“Mistress Audra, will the new gowns …” I hesitated. “Will they make any difference?”
“My sweet lady, they will make all the difference. You are shy. You do not like to jump out at people. I am right, no?”
I nodded.
“Your new gowns will look like the finest gowns of the other nobles. Your form will be improved, and you will not be so much noticed.”
The tailor said the gowns wouldn’t be ready for six weeks. However, my four copper yorthys persuaded him to hurry. My fitting could take place in twenty-nine days. I’d have my gowns the day after that, right before the next Sing.
When I left the tailor, I started for the entrance and fresh air. But my steps slowed. I could put my free time to better use by visiting the library, where I might learn something of magic mirrors or the meaning of the word Skulni. I found a manservant to lead me there.
Inside, the birdsong paused and then took up again. Perhaps birds could read, because there seemed to be at least as many in the library as in the rest of the castle. And birds’ nests! The top shelf of every bookcase had a nest, and some of the lower shelves did, too. Frying Pan could find enough eggs here to feed the entire court.
Even so, there were more books than birds. I had never seen so many. I wondered if the king spent much time here. I wondered if he liked books. I wondered if he would ever read again.
Bookcases blocked the windows. I walked through the aisles and squinted at a book title: Tooth, Tongue, and Trilling. I pulled out the book and opened it. On the recto was an illustration of a portion of the tongue and several teeth. The vantage point was of a tiny person, standing on a huge expanse of tongue ringed by a wall of towering teeth.
The verso was dense with words. I read a sentence: “Tooth preservation must be the primary object of the conscientious singer.”
I replaced the book and read a title across the aisle: The Singer’s Hiss. A bookcase in the next aisle was filled with time-of-day songbooks. The opposite bookcase held nothing but songbooks about food and eating: Muffin Songs, Soup Songs, Songs to Chew On, and the like.
Areida would revel in the songbooks. She adored old songs and odd songs, and she remembered every word after a single hearing.
I looked at another title: Maudlin Ostumo Love Songs. Marvelous!
But so far I hadn’t seen anything about magic or mirrors. I wondered if this was the songs-and-singing library and if there was a second library for other works.
No. The shelves in the next aisle were full of volumes about Ayorthaian history.
In the aisle after that, I discovered I wasn’t alone.
At the end of the aisle a man slumped over a desk, his head resting on his forearms, his tangled gray hair spilling to one side. I backed away quietly. He was probably the library keeper. If I woke him, he might direct me to a book about magic mirrors.
But he’d know exactly why a blemish like me wanted it.
I decided to look awhile longer on my own.
In the next aisle I spotted a book called Court Life: Habits, Rules, and Manners. Not spells, but something else I could use. I opened it to the index and found—
Lady-in-waiting, 7, 89, 248–251
compensation to, 251
duties of, 249–250
in household hierarchy, 27
origins of, 7, 34
privileges, 250
selection of, 248
I turned to page 249, but just as I found it, I heard the scraping sound of a chair being pushed back. I returned the book to its shelf. A hoarse but tuneful voice sang,
“Is Anyone Here?
A book of lonesome songs.
Is Anyone Here?
A good title, not overused.
Is Anyone Here?
Aisle twelve, second shelf west.
Is Anyone Here?
Just next to Where Were You?
Is Anyone Here?
I’m truly asking,
Is anyone here?”
“I’m here,” I sang without leaving my aisle. Maybe he could help me without seeing me. “I’m looking for a book about magic mirrors.”
He limped into my aisle, a stoop-shouldered man with one leg shorter than the other. He said, “You have a fine voice, Milady, the finest I’ve heard, reminds me of—” He sang:
“Queen Amba, Voice of Ayortha,
A noisy title, but not overused,
Aisle four, center, top.
She hated ostumo, so they say.
Great-granddaughter to an ogre,
Or so they say.
“Not a full book about magic mirrors.” He sang, “Magic Artichoke Pitters and Other Curious Objects, a good title—” He broke off and said, “I’ll show you. It’s with the spell books.”
He limped down the aisle and led me to the shelves across from the blocked west window. He peered at the shelves, and I did, too. I read, Try This! Strange Enchantments, and No Harm Done: Safe and Simple Spells. The binding was falling off New Spells for New Times.
Perhaps one of them contained a beauty spell.
“Ah.” The book was on the top shelf, under a nest. He supported the nest with one hand while he pulled the book out.
“Let me see.” He thumbed through it. “It’s alphabetical. M … Ah, here.”
He sang, “‘Magic mirror: Unique. Little known about. Commanded by maverick fairy Lucinda and often dispensed by her as a wedding gift.’” He switched to speech. “You’d be surprised how often that Lucinda pops up in these magic books. I hope she never pops up in person, by the sound of her.” He sang again. “‘Mirror has beautifying and other appearance-altering properties in conjunction with magic potions.’”
Beauty potions?
“‘The creature within the mirror is called Skulni, a creature of unspecified abilities.’”
Ivi had that very mirror!
“‘He may always alter whomever he reflects, but he may show himself and may speak only to those who’ve drunk one of the potions.’”
That’s why I was beautiful in the mirror. He’d made me beautiful, to please me or to taunt me.
The library keeper read on. “‘He may escape under certain unspecified circumstances. The mirror may be destroyed under certain unspecified circumstances.’” He closed the book. “The tome might have another title.” He sang with disgust, “It should be called Unspecified, not overused.”
The most astonishing thought came to me: The mirror—or the potions, or Skulni—may have made Ivi beautiful. She might once have been plain. She might have been as hideous as I was now.
Probably not hideous, if she’d received the mirror just before the wedding. The king wouldn’t have fallen in love with a hideous maiden. I recalled what our Amonta tailor’s Kyrrian cousin had said of her, that she was “merely pretty.”
I heard the library door open.
A female voice said, “Master Library Keeper?”
“A good title,” he said. “It belongs to me, but I didn’t make it up.”
The newcomer was a maidservant, seeking—me! The queen wanted me. I felt frightened.
As we left, I heard the library keeper sing,
“Don’t Go! More Songs to Keep You—
A good title, not overused.
Don’t Go! More Songs to Keep You,
A songbook in—”
The door closed behind us. I would return when I could. I wanted to look at the beauty spells.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
IVI WANTED me to accompany her on a visit to the king. r />
As we approached the physician’s chambers, we heard a lute and Sir Enole singing a sickroom song.
“Cook up the soup!
Rich meat for strength,
Hot broth for fever,
And spices to chase
The sickness away.
“Make up the room!
Silk sheets for ease,
Blankets for snuggling,
And fire to burn
The sickness away.
“Bring in the people!
Father for comfort,
Mother for cuddling,
And good friends to laugh
The sickness away.”
When we entered, a servant set aside a steaming bowl and bowed. The king seemed unchanged from last night, except that his cheeks were stubbly with a day’s growth of beard. A bead of porridge stood on his chin.
That gob of porridge pained me. He was our king!
The servant used her handkerchief to wipe off the porridge.
Ivi knelt by her husband, weeping. She turned to the physician. “Has he spoken my name?”
Sir Enole put down his lute and bowed. “I’m sorry. He has said nothing.”
“Is he at all improved?” I asked.
Sir Enole just looked sad. The servant held the bowl of porridge, waiting to finish feeding the king.
I started for the window. I wasn’t looking down, and I almost fell over a pallet on the floor.
Sir Enole said, “Your Majesty, I had a softer mattress brought in and a warmer blanket. If you stay again tonight, I hope you’ll be more comfortable.”
“My lord,” Ivi said to the king’s slack face, “I am here with Lady Aza.” She took the chair the servant had vacated. “This morning I helped Lady Aza choose her new wardrobe. The tailor has excellent goods.” She described fabrics and patterns, omitting not a single detail.
The servant put down the porridge, curtsied, and left. Sir Enole began to roll bandages. I stood at the window. My mind wandered to beauty spells.
“At the council session …”
I came alert.