Fairest (20 page)

The room was spinning.

“He'd marry
her
?” Ivi said.

Ijori said softly, “I'd hoped to wed her.”

“Oh, son,” Princess Elainee said.

I was going to faint, or retch. I lowered my head to my lap.

“Wed her?” Ivi said. “Wed her! Guards! Imprison her.”

My stomach churned. I stood and lurched to the washstand. Oochoo came with me. As I threw up into the basin, the others decided it would be too dangerous to consider my fate in my presence. The bailiff stationed guards outside. The council and Ivi exited into the king's bedchamber. Ijori called Oochoo, and she left me.

I was alone. I collapsed onto the rug. I closed my eyes and didn't move for a long while.

If I'd been pretty, I'd have been safe. If I'd had an ordinary voice, I'd have been safe. I dragged myself up and went to Ivi's dressing table. Ugly, in the ordinary mirror. Ogreish? Maybe.

I looked into Skulni, and my face became beautiful. No trace of ogre in that face. How I'd love to be beautiful when Ijori and the rest returned! I'd laugh at their shock. I'd laugh and laugh.

The image faded. I pulled open the dressing table drawer. I'd looked in it a thousand times, and I found no potion now either. I stared down at the tabletop, at the cosmetics and the mirror and the golden flute. Why would a woman who had no music in her keep a flute on her dressing table?

I knew why.

I unscrewed the flute's mouthpiece. Two small vials slid into my shaking hand. One was made of green clay, the other brown. Neither was much bigger than my thumb. Each bore a label. The green vial's label read “Beauty.” The other label read “Disguises.”

I uncorked the green vial and raised it to my lips.

How much should I drink? I lowered the vial, aware of my marble toe.

I wondered when the others would return.

The tumbler Sir Uellu had brought me was on the floor by the bed, still half filled with water. I carried the vial to it and tipped in four drops. The potion was clear, but the water turned cloudy. I returned to the dressing table and emptied the draft down my throat. It was mildly salty, nothing worse.

I watched myself in the ordinary mirror, not in the hand mirror. I wanted an honest reflection.

Nothing changed. Perhaps it had no magic for humans with ogre blood.

A blaze ripped through me, from my scalp to my toes. My eyes watered and burned. I ran to the washstand and threw the water left in the pitcher on myself. The fire roared on. I saw my hand holding the pitcher. The skin was red and coarse, the texture and color of a tongue.

The fire passed. But then my bones, my muscles, my bowels, my heart, were squeezed and twisted, wrung, as if by a giant washerwoman. I felt myself fall. Then I felt nothing.

I awoke on the floor, free of pain. I saw a section of rug, my sleeve, my wrist, and my hand. I moved a finger to prove it was my hand. It didn't look like my hand. It was too pretty.

The finger moved.

I flew to the mirror. There I was—my beautified face—in the ordinary mirror. And not merely my face—my neck was graceful, and my shoulders were narrower. I was commanding, but no longer oppressive.

The midnight-blue gown had become too big, and it was wet around the shoulders where I'd tried to douse myself. I was glorious in the gown nonetheless. I would be glorious in a potato sack.

I smiled at my image. Oh, such a smile! A wounded bird's spirits would lift at that smile.

I sang softly,

I had become the cloudless sky. I wondered if my marble toe had become flesh again. I concentrated. No, it was still marble.

Perhaps I could win Ijori back. He couldn't hate me when I looked like this. He'd listen to me now.

But I hated him.

“You are fairest now, fairer than …”

I spun around, but no one was there. I spun back and looked down and saw a face in the hand mirror. The creature in the mirror. Skulni!

He had a man's face, a sharp face—small features and small ears and a nose that came to a point. He was smiling at me, his eyes slits of merry spite.

“Fairer than Queen Ivi. You are the fairest one of all.”

His voice was flat, with no music. It was sugary and insinuating, the voice of a spider inviting a fly in for ostumo.

“Finish the potion, Lady Aza, or your beauty will be fleeting.”

I touched my ivory cheek. I didn't want to revert.

But I didn't trust him, and I didn't want to burn up again or be squeezed again.

“Hurry! They'll be back soon.”

I opened my reticule and dropped in the vial. I'd decide later.

“When you leave this room, the vial will remain. The potions stay with the mirror. Drink up.”

I took the vial back out of the reticule.

“Drink.” He chuckled. “Or your love will return and see you change from fair to frightful.”

He was too eager. I put both vials back in the flute. “Four drops will suffice.”

What were they deciding about me in the king's chambers? What was Ijori saying?

Skulni said, “If you finish the vial, I can tell you my plans for Ayortha and the queen.”

I didn't know what he was talking about, and I didn't care.

I did care.

“Tell me. Then I'll finish it.”

I heard voices and bustle in the wardrobe closet. I turned to face the door. I wanted to see their expressions when they saw me.

Oochoo ran to me. She didn't seem to notice any change. She greeted me, and I petted her. Had I reverted in the last second?

Ijori came in first, but he hadn't yet taken me in when Ivi shrieked. She ran past him and—before I could protect myself—slapped me across the face.

O
OCHOO GROWLED AND
barked at Ivi. I reeled back and put my hand to my stinging cheek. Ivi edged away from Oochoo.

Ijori said, “Aza …” He looked away from me and then looked back, as if he doubted his eyes. “Aza, what …”

Princess Elainee said, “Am I dreaming?”

“Did someone take her place?” Master Ogusso said. “She's so beautiful.” He added, “But I think she's still Lady Aza—Maid Aza now.”

I was no longer a lady. No matter.

Ivi came at me again. Oochoo lunged at her.

“Don't let your dog bite me!” She ran to Ijori.

I sang, “Do you still see my ogre blood, Sir Uellu?”

He said, “What caused your transformation?”

I didn't answer. I owed them no explanations.

Sir Uellu opened the door to the corridor. The bailiff and the two guards came in.

“She's so beautiful,” Master Ogusso repeated. “I can't tear my eyes away from her.”

“She's too tall,” Ivi said. “Like a giraffe.”

“She's perfect,” Master Ogusso said.

The bailiff nodded at the guards. They came toward me, boots thudding, swords rattling, both men bigger than even I used to be. One had a grim mouth.

Oochoo growled and barked.

Ijori took her by the collar and pulled her away from me. “It's all right, girl.”

He was letting them take me.

I tried to run, but the guards grabbed me and held me. The one with the grim mouth kept tightening his grip.

“Gently!” Ijori said.

“What are you doing with me?”

Ivi came to me, brave now that Ijori was holding Oochoo and the guards were holding me. “Aza. Aza. Aza. I thought we were such friends. My heart breaks, the way you've treated me. I have a tender heart, and now it's broken.”

Sir Uellu said, “For the safety of Ayortha, the guards will take you to prison.”

Prison after all! I sang, “For how long?”

“We haven't determined yet,” Princess Elainee said. “But we cannot leave you free to illuse and confuse us.”

“What of my parents' inn, the Featherbed?”

Sir Uellu said, “Your family has done nothing wrong.”

Ijori said, “The crown will be generous.”

“Why should it be?” Ivi asked.

“It will be,” Ijori said firmly.

The guards gagged me and bound my hands.

“You may take her away now,” Sir Uellu said.

The gag tore at the corners of my mouth. I started a tune in my mind as they walked me out of Ivi's chambers, a brave tune, with trumpets and many voices. It stayed with me through the castle corridors. I thought of Frying Pan being taken to prison.

My courage lasted until we descended into the cellar. The air that belched up from below was rank. The stone stairs were slippery. I might have fallen if not for the guards' grip on my elbows. How was I to live down there?

The stairs ended. All I could see of the tunnel ahead was a small circle illumined by the guards' lanterns. The tunnel was hewn from solid rock, with thick timber supports every few paces. The walls glistened with slime. A rat scurried out of the light.

After several hundred yards the tunnel turned right. My steps flagged. My legs felt as if they, too, were rock. The guards towed me along. Eventually we reached a wooden door reinforced with iron.

The bailiff unlocked the door.

Four tallow lamps burned in sconces near the low ceiling. Beneath one of them a ring of keys hung on a nail. Six iron cell doors were set in three walls. There was a window in each door, striped by iron bars.

Mounted on a wall between cell doors were iron manacles and a cat-o'-nine-tails. A lunatic's cage, big enough for a lion, stood in the middle of the floor.

A screen in one corner gave the guard privacy to use the chamber pot. A brazier of glowing coals on a wrought-iron stand dispelled some of the damp chill.

The prison guard rose from his wooden table. “Never had such a pretty prisoner before.”

I'd longed for admiration. Now I had it.

Frying Pan appeared in one of the cell windows. “Is that the innkeeper's daughter? Did Her Maj—What happened to the wench?”

Lady Arona appeared in another window and stared out at me.

“I want this one where you can see her every second, Izzi,” the bailiff told the prison guard. “Put her in the cage.”

Cage! There was a drumming in my ears. I stamped on my right-hand guard's foot and yanked my arm free. I punched my other guard in the eye and jerked out of his grip. He staggered back. I had lost none of my former strength.

My mind sharpened. I noticed that Izzi, the prison guard, favored his left leg and that the hot brazier could be a weapon.

I lunged for the prison door. A guard slammed it shut. He reached for me. I made a battering ram of my head and charged at the bailiff. Head met stomach, and he went down. I bounded toward the brazier.

A guard vaulted to the top of the cage and then leaped onto my shoulders. I fell. The others descended on me.

The bailiff rose and dusted himself off. “Take care with her, Izzi. She's part ogre.”

Izzi opened the cage, and the other guards shoved me inside. They slammed the door and shot home the bolt an instant before I threw myself against the bars. My mind was roaring. But the observant part of me noticed the bolt. No key, just a bolt. And then I caught a weakness in the cage. I threw myself at the bars again. They held against me.

I squatted—there was no room to stand—and lowered my head to my lap.

I heard the bailiff release Frying Pan and Lady Arona. Their freedom would infuriate Ivi, but she would have to heed the council now. I heard everyone leave, all but Izzi. The door thudded shut.