The tale went on. Drualt slew several gryphons and held the rest at bay, while the queen and her handmaidens retreated to the queen’s castle.
“Good health to you.
“In gratitude, Queen Iola cured Drualt of a bunion.”
Meryl laughed, and I did too. Our hero with a swollen toe!
The queen asked Drualt how else she might repay her debt.
“‘There is no debt,’ Drualt said, ‘but you might nurse King Bruce and his subjects when they have need.’
“Queen Iola and Drualt never met again, but elves have been nursing humans from that day to this.
“Good health to you.”
Milton bowed. We all clapped, even Bella.
“Did the elves really have a queen named Iola?” I asked.
Milton filled a tumbler with water from the pitcher on the washstand and brought it to Meryl.
“Our queen Seema is descended from Queen Iola, and this tale is true. It’s written in our Scroll of Days.”
Meryl and I looked at each other. The elves believed Drualt had lived!
Meryl said, “What do you think, Addie? Do you think it could be true?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “There could have been a historical Drualt who helped the elves, but the tales in Drualt still might be mostly fable.”
Bella said, “Drualt never had a bunion, and that’s certain.”
“Why not?” Meryl said, laughing again. “He had feet, didn’t he? If he had a bunion, it would have been the biggest and best one in history. I think the whole story is true, and I think it means that everything in Drualt is true too.” She beamed at Milton. “Thank you!”
He bowed again and then returned to his knitting.
“Would you like to exercise now?” I asked, hoping that Milton’s story might have fortified her.
She was willing, but she paced fewer laps than yesterday, just eight, and she didn’t even attempt swordplay. Instead she practiced lifting lighter items—a hairbrush, a hand mirror, and her walking boots. At the end she said she was pleased.
When Rhys came in the afternoon, he said that Father’s knights had brought down a gryphon, and there had been jubilation over the killing. He added that the royal party was halfway to Queen Seema.
On Thursday morning, a week after she got sick, Meryl collapsed walking to her wardrobe. Milton had to support her back to bed, with me hovering, aching to help.
She said, “I’ll be better soon, Addie. Sir Gray Death hasn’t won yet.”
I tried to smile, but my expression must have been ghastly.
“Don’t look so gloomy. He won the skirmish for my legs, but my heart and my mind have beaten him back a few times already. He won’t win out over them.”
I tried to believe her, but I didn’t. The child specter had only been cruel when it called this an adventure.
Rhys came late that day, almost at dinnertime. Queen Seema had told Father that she knew no cure, nor did she know where a cure might be sought.
“Where will he go now?” Meryl asked. She was in bed, wearing an embroidered robe over her nightdress. I was in the window seat.
Rhys looked down as he answered, “King Lionel is coming home.”
Chapter Eleven
* * *
“FATHER IS COMING home?” I said. “Why?”
Bella said, “He should be here with his child.” My voice rose. “What about Homely Truths and rooting out the canker?” What about changing from cowardly to brave?
Rhys answered, still looking at the floor. “He said that Homely Truths had told him to seek counsel. He’s returning to consult with his councillors.” He raised his head and looked at us. “I couldn’t argue with him.”
He was right, of course. An apprentice sorcerer couldn’t harangue a king.
“I never thought he’d find the cure,” Meryl said calmly, settling deeper into her pillows. “It doesn’t matter.”
I was furious with Father for giving up and angry at myself for expecting anything from him.
“One of the knights had a mishap with a specter,” Rhys said.
Meryl sat up. “What happened?”
I shivered. Another specter!
Rhys leaned against the mantel. “The king and his retinue were camped outside the walls of Queen Seema’s castle, a quarter mile from the ocean cliffs. One of the knights, Sir Osbert, couldn’t sleep and went for a walk. He hadn’t gone far when he heard a rustling noise, like the swish of a lady’s skirt.”
“Was that the specter?” Meryl asked.
“It was. But Sir Osbert saw his sister, who had died five years ago of the Gray Death.”
I pictured a specter taking Meryl’s shape someday. I wanted to run out of the room.
Rhys went on. “He embraced her and never wondered why she was there. Perhaps her scent bewitched him. The specter had aped the dead maiden’s perfume.”
The specter told Sir Osbert that none of the Gray Death’s victims had really died. Instead, they had been whisked to a hidden place close by, where they lived in comfort.
Rhys said, “The specter led Sir Osbert to the edge of a cliff and kept him from seeing the abyss at his feet. Instead, the poor man saw a grassy field and a pavilion lit by a thousand lanterns. In the lantern light he saw two more figures he knew, his cousin and a childhood friend. He ran toward them—and plunged over the edge.”
I cried out. I would have run toward Meryl.
Everyone looked at me. I went to Meryl, and she put her arm around me.
“It came out all right,” Rhys said. “A sapling broke his fall.”
“Was he hurt?” Milton asked.
“Only bruised and shaken. He was lucky.”
Bella said, “My cousin Clara saw a specter once. She also said it had a scent. Cloves and honey, I believe.”
“I must leave you,” Rhys said. “The king instructed me to tell his councillors of his return, but I came here first.” He bowed and left.
I ran out into the corridor. “Rhys!”
He turned and waited for me.
“Now she can hardly walk. How long do you think it will be till the slumber comes?”
“Oh, Princess Addie.” He reached out to me, then dropped his hand. “Sometimes people who are sick surprise everyone. Sometimes—”
“How long?”
“A few days. At most a week.”
He caught my elbow or I would have fallen. A week! Then nine days of sleep and three days of fever. Nineteen days, and she’d be asleep for nine of them. Nineteen days at best, and I’d lose her forever.
Milton stepped into the corridor. “Your sister wants you, Princess Addie.”
When I went back in, Meryl told me she was going to sleep.
I must have looked wild with fear, because she added, “I’m only going to nap. It’s not the deep sleep. That’s not here yet. Am I right, Milton?”
He nodded.
She was still taking care of me. I managed a smile and gave her a kiss. She turned onto her side and closed her eyes.
I left the room. At the end of the corridor I mounted the stairs that led to the north tower, which had always been Meryl’s refuge when she wanted to be alone.
The tower door was heavy. I had to push against it with all my weight to get it open. A week ago Meryl had opened it easily. A ladder led to the tower roof. I climbed up.
I crossed the roof and leaned against the battlement. A wind ruffled my hair, a dry wind straight from the western desert. Was this the shifting wind?
I wished Father were like Drualt. If Drualt’s daughter had the Gray Death, Drualt would catch a specter and force the cure out of it. He’d sit on a dragon’s hoard and refuse to budge till the dragon answered him. If Meryl were his daughter, he’d carry her in his arms till he found the cure. He’d give it to her on the spot, and she’d be the first to recover. If Meryl were his daughter, he wouldn’t let her die.
My next thought stunned me, although it was obvious. If I had caught the Gray Death instead of M
eryl, she would have begun her quest the moment Milton pronounced my doom. She wouldn’t be weeping in Bamarre castle and pinning her hopes on a weak king or a foolish theory.
I should have acted as she would have. I should do so now. I had already wasted six days, perhaps a third of the life Meryl had remaining.
But she would have known what to do. She’d thought about this quest and had studied monsters her whole life. I had no idea where to go, and a monster would slay me before I’d gone ten miles. I might as well leap off this battlement. What good would it serve for both of us to die?
Even if I weren’t slain, there was scant chance of success, and I’d miss her last days. She wouldn’t want that. She’d want me at her side.
I looked down at the farmland spread below me—the ripening cornfields, the cattle, a herd of pigs. I could see no hint of the troubles that plagued us.
After she died, my grief would be boundless, and my fear too, without her to protect me. And how would I live knowing I’d done nothing to save her?
She was going to die without having the adventures she’d longed for, all because of her promise to me. She’d postponed her dreams just to set me at ease.
How could I fail to help her, at least to try to help her?
I looked out again at beautiful Bamarre. The day was fading, and the western sky was pink. Haze softened the outlines of the Kilkets to the north. A few clouds cast moving shadows over the pastures around the castle and over the deeper green of the pine forest by Lake Orrinic.
A breeze blew in from the Haun Ocean, salty, moist, bracing. I raised my arms in welcome and put out my tongue to taste it. I breathed three deep breaths.
I would try to save Meryl. Most likely I’d die, but nonetheless I would seek her cure.
Chapter Twelve
* * *
I TURNED AWAY from the battlement and left the tower. On my way downstairs I decided to tell Rhys first. Bella wouldn’t want me to go, and I didn’t know what Meryl would say, but Rhys would help me if he could.
He was in the dining hall, sitting with Father’s councillors. I sat in my usual place and gazed at him, hoping to catch his attention. I didn’t have long to wait—he looked my way almost instantly. As soon as he did, I stood and left the hall, hoping he’d follow me out.
He did. “Princess Addie? Did you want me?”
I nodded, and opened my mouth to tell him I was going on the quest, but the words didn’t come. As soon as I told him, I’d really have to go. I smiled weakly. This was ridiculous.
“Are you feeling well?”
I nodded again. “I . . . I decided . . . I’m going to search for the cure.”
Rhys looked startled. He said nothing, but he looked at me intently.
I couldn’t read his expression. “Am I doing right? Do you think I should go?” Why was I asking? I was going.
“I only wish I could go with you. When will you leave?”
Oh, how I wished he could come! “At dawn. When do you have to go to the citadel?”
“My summons will come at midnight.”
“Do you think I should go?” I repeated. I half hoped he would give me a reason to stay home and be safe.
“I do think you should go, but . . .” He raised a hand, then let it drop. “But I’ll worry.”
I was glad. I was a complete fool over him, but I was glad he’d worry.
“I may be able to join your quest, for a while at least. There will be breaks in our ceremony. I may be able to get away. Where will you go?”
“I don’t know. Where do you think I should go?” I added, “It’s probably hopeless anyway.”
He was silent for a moment. “Sorcerers believe that an action taken for the right reasons has an unreasonable chance of success. I think your quest will find you, no matter where you search. If I can leave the citadel, I’ll search for you. I’ll find you.”
Would he find me before a monster killed me?
His face brightened. “I have a thing or two for your quest. Just the things!”
Sorcerer’s things? They might give me hope—and help.
He said he’d fetch them from his chamber, and we agreed to meet in the library in a few minutes.
I went directly there and pulled two chairs up to the fire, which was burning brightly. Night had fallen outside, but the gas lamps shed a golden light.
Rhys came in carrying a bundle wrapped in cloth. He sat and began to open it. “Will you tell the king’s councillors of your quest?”
I hadn’t thought about that. I couldn’t tell them, though. “No. They wouldn’t let me go. They’d make me wait till Father came home.”
“You’re right.” He smiled approvingly. “Now look.”
He held up a length of cloth and shook it out. It was a cloak made of dark-blue cloth. He carried it to a table in semidarkness near the window. Then he returned empty-handed to the fire. I looked back at the table. The cloak was gone.
I gasped and ran to the table. When I got close, I saw that the cloak was there, but it was dim, only a glimmer. I picked it up. “What? How?”
I hugged it to me and returned to my seat. The fabric felt substantial. It had weight. But even on my arm, it was hard to see. So was my arm.
“It’s not a cloak of invisibility. I wish I had one of those to give you. If you’re in bright sunlight, everyone will see you. But if you’re in shadow, even in daylight—under a tree, perhaps—and if you stay still, you won’t be noticed. At night, no one will see you. The shadow will seem deeper where you are, that’s all. It doesn’t work on specters and dragons, unfortunately, but ogres and gryphons will be fooled. Humans and sorcerers too.”
“Thank you.” It might save my life.
Rhys reached into his bundle again. He pulled out more cloth, a large square of linen this time. Every inch was embroidered with images of an elaborate feast.
“A tablecloth.” I couldn’t imagine what use I’d have for it. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Now watch. Good tablecloth, please set thyself.”
It flew out of his hand and unfolded. It hung in the air, all straight edges and sharp corners, exactly as if a table were beneath it—but I saw no table.
And then! And then!
Dishes began popping out of the empty air and descending on the table with a thump—roast pheasant, roast hare, roast boar, and more—every kind of roast. Every kind of bread too—round loaves and long ones, hard rolls and soft, seeded rolls and plain. Every sort of fish and vegetable and fruit and pastry. Enough food for everyone in the castle, and china plates and silverware to boot.
My eyes must have stood out a foot from my face, because Rhys was laughing.
“Is it real food?” I whispered. “Can one eat it?”
“Try it. Everything is delicious.”
I picked up a fork.
Rhys added, “But take care. A man I know stuffed himself so full, he was sick for a week.”
The silver fork was heavier than our best cutlery. I loaded it with a big bite of blueberry tart, my favorite treat.
“Mmm. It’s lovely.” I put down the fork.
“Do you want anything else?”
I shook my head.
Rhys said, “Good tablecloth, I thank thee for a fine meal.”
The food and crockery rose above the table. I watched carefully and saw them shrink so fast that they seemed to pop out of sight.
“Everything shrank!” I waved my hand in the air above the tablecloth. It felt like ordinary air. “Is the air filled with roasts and tarts so tiny you can’t see them?”
The tablecloth folded itself, and Rhys gave it to me. “I don’t think so.” He laughed. “But how would anyone tell?”
I laughed too, but I was surprised a sorcerer couldn’t tell.
“You have to say the words precisely as I did—‘Good tablecloth, please set thyself’ and—”
The tablecloth leaped out of my arms.
Rhys added hastily, “And then, ‘Good tablecloth, I thank thee
for a fine meal.’”
It hung in the air for a moment and then started to fall, but I caught it.
“Remember—if you add a word or leave one out, nothing will happen.”
I repeated the words, doubting that the magic would work for me. It did, however. It was a wonderful gift. I would have food on my quest—unless I became food first.
But I knew I mustn’t think that way. The tablecloth would keep me fed, and the cloak would keep me safe.
I sat again. “Thank you. Your gifts are marvelous.”
“And these . . .” He reached into his bundle again, although it was now quite flat. “Look.” He handed me a thin stack of parchment papers.
I took them on my lap and held up the top one to catch the light. “It’s a map of the Eskerns!” I peered at it. The markings were thin and spidery, but clear if I looked closely. Ogres’ camps dotted the slopes. I caught my breath. So many! And gryphon nests capped the peaks. Not every peak, but many. I would need my magic cloak in the Eskerns.
“The maps aren’t magical,” Rhys said. “Apprentice sorcerers draw them.”
I put the map of the Eskerns aside and picked up another one.
He went on. “Some maps are older than others, and the old ones may not be completely accurate. Monsters move. New monsters are born.”
The next map was of Bamarre castle and the land around it. There were the farms, Lake Orrinic and its nearby cave, and the pine forest. I saw a word along the southeastern fringe of the forest: Specters. The spectral child had been in the west, however, so they’d spread westward since the map had been drawn.
The next map was of the Kilkets. There were seven maps in all: Mulee Forest; the western desert where the dragons dwell; the ocean shore and the elf queen’s castle; the sorcerers’ citadel and the plains around it, which were in southwestern Bamarre, between the desert and Mulee Forest.
“Is there a map of Mount Ziriat and how to reach it?” I’d take the quest straight to the fairies if I could.