A tall Three Tree stood guard by the entrance. The duchess went in, along with the coachman and two footmen, each bearing a trunk. I hugged my carpetbag and followed behind.
Inside the Great Hall, I stopped. The birdsong was louder here. I looked up. An exaltation of larks flew overhead, beneath a ceiling that seemed as distant as the heavens. A troubadour near the doors played his lute and sang an Ayorthaian nonsense song. I stopped to listen and gawk.
“The wind took my hat,
My jig-prancing favorite hat
With its leap-feather whim
And its whirling adoring
Red heather.”
A juggler sang along while keeping seven silver sticks in the air.
“I whirred at my cat,
My faint-speckled chocolate cat.
In my wish-whether well....”
Four courtiers watched the juggler. A peasant woman held a tray of chestnut candies and waited for customers. A falconer stood with a hooded bird strapped to his wrist.
My eyes were drawn to the courtiers. Three were women, slouching with their hips thrust forward. Mother would have thought their posture dreadful, but I found it worldly and appealing. I thrust my own hips out and immediately felt ridiculous. I drew them back in.
Areida was prettier than any of the women. I was uglier.
“Aza!”
I hurried after the duchess, still gawking.
My bedchamber was only slightly less grand than the duchess’s. My bedposts were mahogany, and the fringe on the canopy was three inches long!
We had rugs at the Featherbed, but ours were worn to frayed thread. Here, the rugs were new and springy and the patterns were bright. I had four rugs. They were small, to be sure, but four!
I took off my travel-worn gown and draped the skirts over the dressing-table mirror. Then I went to the washstand, which was marble, so cool and smooth I had to stroke it. I poured water from the pitcher into the basin. A small sculpture stood in the soap dish. The sculpture was of a green dragon, the size of a goose egg. Its mouth was open, but no carved flames spewed out. It was singing, not flaming.
But where was the soap? Surely they washed with soap here. Perhaps the washstand had a lower shelf. I bent down. No shelf.
Reading this, you know what a bumpkin I was. But the truth finally arrived. Smiling with delight, I picked up the dragon and scratched its scales. Soap flakes. The dragon was the soap.
After I washed, I dressed in the ensemble of Dame Ethele’s that the duchess had told me to wear. The undershirt was white silk embroidered with yellow roses. Lovely. I slipped it over my head. It settled on me like soft rain.
That was the end of my pleasure. Dame Ethele’s hose was no better than the thick cotton stockings I’d left at home. The gray bodice was tight around my chest, although the shoulders were puffed. I struggled for air and wished I could breathe through my shoulders.
Above the bodice, I tied on a starched white ruff. The stays jabbed into my neck. I stepped into a farthingale with hoops wide enough to encircle a haystack. Over the farthingale went a green underskirt and then a pleated tan overskirt edged with fur.
“I expect you to wear both skirt and underskirt,” the duchess had said. “I won’t have you scantily clad.”
Scantily! It would take a carpenter a month to drill through the skirts and find my legs.
I examined the headdress. The top part was stiff, rough textured, and dark gray, resembling a roof shingle. A broad strip of white linen had been glued to it. I put the headpiece on, tied the linen behind my head, and pushed the ends under the ruff. I was perspiring. I felt pinched here and pricked there, but I was dressed.
I had to see how I looked. I whipped the skirts off the mirror. Then I tilted it to see as much of my reflection as possible. I looked—
And burst into tears.
CHAPTER SIX
I LOOKED LIKE A cottage, with my doughy face peeking out from under the roof. Hundreds of people were going to see me, and I looked even uglier than I truly was.
I sat on the bed. I couldn’t stop crying, although I knew the duchess was waiting.
She barged in. A cat rode on her shoulder. Until then I had never seen her laugh. But now she tittered. The titters turned to gales, then shrieks of laughter.
“Not … laughing … at you …” she had the grace to gasp out. “The … bonnet!”
I couldn’t laugh along. I waited her out.
When she recovered, she allowed me to wear a different headdress. She told me she had something that would do. She left and returned, holding a gray cap with a single gray feather. “I never thought I’d wait on a servant,” she said, handing it to me.
The cap was better. The gown was still absurd, but I was no longer quite so conspicuous.
After I helped her dress, we joined the crowd trooping through the castle corridors. I shortened my stride to the duchess’s mincing steps. Enough people stared at me to make me wish myself back in my room. I thought of my family. If I missed the wedding, so would they.
We finally reached the Hall of Song, which I’d heard of for as long as I could remember. Oaken pillars supported an oaken ceiling. Each pillar was a wooden elongated singer whose lines and features had been softened by the centuries. Suspended from the ceiling a wooden winged singer flew, her lips forming an O. A living lark perched on her left hand. Its song, clear and fine, was enhanced by the hall’s legendary acoustics.
The seats were arranged in a three-quarter circle facing a stage. The duchess’s rank commanded a seat in the first row. I was on her right. Everyone was standing, and we stood, too.
A tiny man with bushy eyebrows stood between the stage and the seats. He held a baton, so I knew he must be Sir Uellu, the Ontio choirmaster, the most respected person in Ayortha after the king.
A flutist waited next to Sir Uellu, who raised his baton. The flutist began to play. Everyone hummed along with the flute. Under cover of the other voices, I illused, so that my humming came from the mouth of the wooden singer overhead. I was certain no one would hear me, but the choirmaster looked up. My heart almost flew out my mouth. I stopped illusing.
King Oscaro and Prince Ijori and a large black boarhound stepped through the wine-red velvet curtains at the back of the stage. I knew the king by his crown and the prince by his dog. Every Ayorthaian knew about the prince and his faithful hound, Oochoo.
Prince Ijori was only seventeen, but he was taller than his uncle, the king. He had his uncle’s rounded cheeks and narrow chin. He was handsome, very handsome, but for overlarge ears. I liked those ears. They were whimsical. They were charming.
The prince’s expression was solemn, but I detected a gleam in his eye. Then I saw Oochoo lick a tidbit out of his hand. The hand moved to the pocket of his tunic, and the dog got another treat.
The king was smiling, and I saw why everyone loved him. His smile was so sweet and kindly. King Oscaro was said to have the best heart in the kingdom. I believed it.
He stepped to the edge of the stage while Prince Ijori and Oochoo moved to the side.
A latecomer, a middle-aged woman wearing a gold tiara, crossed in front of me to reach her place three seats away. I wondered if she was Princess Elainee, the prince’s mother, the king’s sister.
I sensed eyes on me. I glanced up, and it was the prince. I felt my blotchy blush begin. I saw myself in my mind’s mirror. Blushing made me as garish as blood on snow.
I felt the duchess turn. I turned, too, as the bride entered the hall. The flutist missed a measure. Everyone’s humming faltered. The duchess stiffened.
Merely pretty! She was ravishing. The tailor’s cousin needed new eyes. My own eyes could barely take her in. Ivi was only a few inches shorter than I, but she was fragile, almost insubstantial. Her honey-colored hair shone as though a bit of sunlight was caught in each strand. Her skin seemed to glow from within, like porcelain. Her bones—in her cheeks, her jaw, her wrists—were more finely shaped than the stem of a crystal goblet.
/> She and I could have belonged to different species. She was ethereal, and I was base. I’d been a fool to imagine the slightest connection between us.
She advanced in measured steps, as the ceremony required. Her expression was serious. Her gaze was on King Oscaro, except for a peek around the hall. She saw our astonishment and flashed a smile—of triumph, I thought—and then became serious again.
She joined King Oscaro on the stage, and we took our seats.
Sir Uellu, the choirmaster, sang, “King Oscaro!”
The whole wedding would be sung, of course.
“Yes, Ayortha!” King Oscaro’s bass voice was full and rich.
Sir Uellu sang, “Maid Ivi!”
Ivi coughed.
The flutist missed another measure.
Ivi whispered, “Yes, Ayortha!”
Several people groaned. Everyone pitied her for losing her voice on her wedding day, but we felt fear as well as pity. This was unlucky. This boded ill. At home in Amonta a sore throat was cause enough to postpone a wedding. But a royal wedding, I supposed, with so many dignitaries attending, couldn’t be postponed.
Sir Uellu turned to face us. He sang, “Ayorthaiana!”
We sang, “Yes, Ayortha!”
After that, Sir Uellu sang that this was a marriage of three: King Oscaro, Ivi, and Ayortha. The maiden who married the king also married the kingdom, and the kingdom married her.
Sir Uellu likened king, queen, and country to the Three Tree, which grew only in Ayortha. The Three Tree wasn’t one tree, but three: the white obirko, the red almyna, and the black-barked umbru. Their trunks grew no more than an inch apart, and their roots and branches mingled.
Sir Uellu began the “Three Tree Song,” also known as the “Song of Ayortha.” Everyone joined in.
“The wind weaves through you,
My Three Tree.
Your leaves rustle—
Swish,
Whisper,
Sigh.
“Ee ooshahsoo ytyty axa ubensu,
Inyi Uhu Ullovu.
Usaru ovro izhathi—
Esnesse,
Ilhi,
Effosse.”
I’d sung the “Song of Ayortha” hundreds of times, but never with the king. I wanted to remember everything—the smell of the courtiers’ perfume, the king’s joy, the bride’s beauty (and her whisper), the prince’s ears, his dog, the birds trilling, the singing statues.
“The wind whips through you,
My Three Tree.
Your branches sway—
Whoosh!
Whistle!
Blow!
“Ee ooshahsoo ukuptu axa ubensu,
Inyi Uhu Ullovu.
Usaru yvolky ahrha—
Ootsikoo!
Ulhu!
Iitsikii!”
“My obirko, high and sweet—
Ayortha!
My almyna, mellow and light—
Ayortha!
My umbru, dark and deep—
Ayortha!
“Inyi obirko, alara iqui uschu—
Ayortha!
Inyi almyna, odgoo iqui ischi
Ayortha!
Inyi umbru, uscuru iqui ascha
Ayortha!”
The king sang his Wedding Song, declaring the reasons he loved his bride.
“She makes me
laugh and cry.
I reflect her glow
and believe that I
am glowing too.
To please her
for a minute
pleases me a week.
She has thunder
and lightning,
rage and joy.
She breathes in
the high notes
and exhales
the low.
She wakes me up
and makes me sing.”
Ivi smiled. She touched her throat and was silent.
After the ceremony, the duchess and I joined a receiving line in the corridor outside the Hall of Song. Perhaps fifty people were ahead of us. The line started to move. The duchess stepped forward. I hung back.
“Aza!”
Feeling rising panic, I moved up. I shielded my face with my hand. I hadn’t expected to meet the king and the queen and the prince. If I’d known, I’d have thrown myself out of the coach on the way here.
Peeking between my fingers, I saw Prince Ijori, with Oochoo at his feet, greet the guests and announce their names. The duchess and I moved up again. I tried to reason myself out of my fear. Everyone would be polite. The king and queen would be too caught up with each other to pay attention to me. The prince would be too occupied with announcing the guests.
I concentrated on the royal couple and the prince, attempting to prepare myself. The king and queen’s love for each other was unmistakable. She leaned into him and clung as tightly as real ivy. He beamed at her and looked prouder than an Ayorthaian lyrebird. As I watched, Ivi’s expression turned impish, oh-so-adorably impish. She touched her husband’s cheek and whispered in his ear. For a moment he looked discomfited. Then he exploded into laughter, and she looked vastly pleased with herself.
Feeling I was intruding by watching them, I looked instead at the prince, who cocked his head in a doggy way when a guest spoke to him. He traded witticisms with the guests. He seemed to have a light heart and a clever tongue.
When a guest reached the king, he held her hand or put his arm around her shoulder. Ivi whispered, “Thank you,” to each one—I couldn’t hear, but I could read her lips. She smiled the same smile each time, too, brilliant, but automatic and lacking warmth, nothing like the melting smiles she bestowed on her husband.
I grew desperate. Only a dozen people were ahead of us.
Most guests spoke their congratulations, but some sang a verse of their own composition. One guest had a flawless high soprano. She wasn’t as beautiful as the queen, but she was a beauty, dark skinned with a face of gentle curves. She sang,
“Congratulations!
May your voices mingle
Long and late.”
The duchess whispered, “We expected the king to marry Lady Arona, who would have been a much better match. And we wouldn’t have had such an inauspicious wedding, either, if Arona had been the bride.”
Not necessarily. Lady Arona might have had a sore throat, too.
“Long and late.
May your double life
Spin a single melody …”
Ivi’s smile faded. She smoothed a stray lock of gray hair behind the king’s ear. She was demonstrating her claim to him. She was jealous!
“Of joy
Forever,
Of joy
Forever,
Of joy
Forever!”
King Oscaro patted Ivi’s hand. Now I was jealous. The gesture was so loving. No one would ever pat my hand that way.
He spoke, loud enough for me to hear, “Thank you, Lady Arona. Your good wishes can hardly fail to come true.” He paused and then burst out, “Arona, is my Ivi not a wonder?” He turned to Ivi. “My dear, you are always lovely, but tonight you outshine the stars.”
Ivi looked smug. Lady Arona seemed to take the king’s remarks with good grace. She curtsied and started off, down the corridor.
Four people now separated the duchess and me from the prince.
“Your Grace?” I said.
“Yes?”
“I forgot …” What could I have forgotten? “I forgot my handkerchief. I’d better fetch it. I’ll—”
“Nonsense. I’m not going to wait—”
“You needn’t—”
“How dare you interrupt me!”
Two people remained before us.
“Your Grace, I can’t stay. Let me go. I must go.”
She understood. “Don’t be silly. I didn’t bring a companion in order to be alone.” She stepped closer to the prince.
I followed her. I was uglier than a hydra. I was as big as the corridor. There was nothing to look at but me.
Prince Ijori announced the duchess. I stood frozen.
She stepped forward. “Congratulations, Sire. Congratulations, Your Majesty. I hope you’ll be very happy.”
I didn’t move. I stared at the floor. My blush was as red as raw meat.
The duchess said, “Aza! The king is waiting!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I HEARD A GIGGLE behind me. I took a half step forward. Then I froze again. I couldn’t do it. I decided to run.
But Oochoo saved me. She came to me, tail wagging madly. I reached down and stroked her long silky ears.
Then Prince Ijori was at my side. He put his hand on my elbow and guided me forward. “Have no fear. The king is dangerous only when he’s hungry. What is your name, so I may tell him?”
“A-aza.” I had to repeat myself three times before my voice was strong enough to be heard.
I stood two inches taller than the king, hulking over him.
“My dear,” he said, taking my hand in his, “if only the ogres were as afraid of me as you are.”
He was so kind! I forced out, “Congratulations, Sire.”
“Thank you.” He passed me along to Ivi.
I curtsied.
She let go of the king and took my hand in both of hers. Her smile seemed genuine now, different from the smiles she’d bestowed on everyone else. “I know how you feel.” Her whisper had a Kyrrian accent. She licked her lips. “I was terrified when I arrived here. Petrified! And the wedding ceremony! I’m relieved it’s over.”
I was thrilled. I struggled and got out, “You’re very gracious, Your Majesty. Congratulations.” I curtsied without falling over and hurried after the duchess.
The queen had spoken more to me than to anyone else!
It was barely dawn. I heard a peep and then a trill. A lyrebird sang from atop the curtain rod. I heard more birdsong outside my window and from the corridor beyond my door. The birds made for a charming awakening.