Kedrigern in Wanderland (19 page)

crevice in the massy walls. He stepped back, blinking, and when his vision cleared he saw men dressed all in black stagger from the gate, helplessly bedazzled by the light.

He sprang to the back of his black horse and rode into the castle over a narrow stone bridge that rocked beneath the great silver hooves and collapsed with a terrible roar behind him.

PRINCESS AWOKE
to a misty dawn. She felt a bit stiff in the neck and shoulders, but well rested and eager to be on her way. After the flight of the three weird sisters, the night had gone by without disturbance, clear and dry and comfortably mild.

Louise had passed the night as a staff, to avoid any possibility of rusting, and remained so through Princess’s hasty morning ablutions and dreary breakfast. Disinclined to small talk at so early an hour, Princess did not summon her, and Louise did not, in fact, resume the sword mode until Princess found herself at a fork in the path with no indication of the proper way.

“Louise, I need directions,” she said, giving the dark staff a gentle shake.

Once again the air resounded with the peal of struck metal, and the blade responded, “Directions, did you say?”

“Yes. We’re at a fork

“I see.” Louise was silent for a time, struggling to remember, and then she cried, “To the left! It’s only a short way to the river, Princess, and then we’re practically home! We’re almost there!”

“I do hope Kedrigern’s waiting there for us. I’m very concerned about him,” said Princess, directing her horse to the left-hand path.

“I’m sure he’s safe. If there’s anyone who can deal properly with an enchanted wood, it’s a wizard.”

“If he were at full strength I wouldn’t be concerned for a minute,” said Princess earnestly, “but the Green Riddler cost him a lot of magic. And on top of everything else, he’s probably worrying about me and not concentrating on his own predicament. He’s like that, you know.”

“It would seem that you two have a good marriage.”

After a thoughtful pause, Princess said, “I believe we do. I don’t mean to sound smug, but I really believe it. I only wish I knew more married couples, so I’d have some grounds for comparison.”

“How many do you know?”

“Two. Three, counting toads. But we never see them, so I have no idea how they act toward one another. And I can’t recall a thing about my own family,” Princess confessed.

“Well, if it’s any help to you, I remember my mother and father worrying about each other’s well being and happiness all the time, and they seemed to have a very nice marriage.”

“That’s encouraging. Thank you, Louise.”

“I do wish they’d passed along the secret, whatever it was,” the sword went on, somewhat pettishly. “I couldn’t imagine being happy with any of the princes who came to the castle seeking my hand. What a dismal lot they were!”

Princess nodded in knowing sympathy. “Handsome princes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”

“Frequently they’re not even handsome. There was one who resembled a wild boar: great big head, little piggy black eyes, hardly a trace of chin. He behaved like a boar, too. And another one looked exactly like a toad. He was the ugliest
. . .“
Louise stopped abruptly. In a chastened voice, she said, “Oh, my dear Princess, I
am
sorry. I didn’t mean
. . .
He wasn’t an actual enchanted toad, you understand.
. . .
Oh, I feel terrible.”

With a comforting pat on Louise’s pommel, Princess said, “I understand completely. Believe me, I do. I didn’t feel the least bit attractive when I was a toad, and the other toads looked positively ugly to me.”

“All the same, it was a thoughtless thing for me to say. I’m terribly embarrassed.”

“No more of that, now, Louise. Let’s forget it ever happened.” They went a short way in awkward silence, and Princess suddenly said, “I wonder how Lalloree and Conrad look to each other. That never occurred to me before.”

“Who?”

“Lalloree is that little princess who was turned into a toad by the magic mist. Conrad was caught in it, too. It seemed to bring them together.”

“Was Conrad turned into a toad?”

“Yes. In a sense, it worked out conveniently for both of them. It’s so difficult to meet someone suitable once you’re enchanted like that.”

“It isn’t all that easy when you’re
not
enchanted, believe me. If they’re not
. . .
unattractive, they’re like merchants. It’s bargaining, not romance. I want nothing to do with it.”

Princess said thoughtfully, “I suppose I was lucky to meet someone as I did.”

“How is it, being married to a wizard? I don’t mean to pry, but one so seldom meets a wizard’s wife.”

“It has its advantages, Louise. Marriage to a prince— even a handsome prince—can be dreadfully boring. Princes are always dashing off to slay something or do battle with giants or ogres or recreant knights. If they’re not doing that, they’re planning a war, or fighting one, or recovering from one.”

“That sounds quite exciting,” Louise observed.

“It’s exciting for
them,
I suppose, but what’s a wife to do while they’re off somewhere hacking and smiting? They only come home to unload their booty and give their wounds time to heal and knock the dints out of their

armor, and then they’re off again. By the time they’re thirty, they’re all covered with scars and have bits and pieces missing. Your wizard, on the other hand, is basically a homebody.” She paused, then went on, “Of course,
that
can be a problem, too. It’s very difficult to get Kedrigern out of the house. He abhors travel. But it’s never boring. Wizards have interesting friends, and the clients are sometimes interesting, too. There’s generally something going on around the house. On the whole, it’s a pleasant life, especially if you learn a bit of magic yourself."

The road began to dip, and when she noticed this, Louise lost all interest in the homelife of wizards and grew quite excited. She asked Princess to hold her as high as possible, so she might survey the area. After a brief look around, she shouted, “There it is! The Moaning River— it’s just ahead!”

“Are you sure? I don’t hear any moaning,” Princess said cautiously.

“You won’t at this time of year. The water is low. All you get is a kind of peevish muttering and a lot of sighing,” Louise explained. “You have to listen carefully.”

A few moments later Princess exclaimed, “I can hear it, Louise! It sounds like
. . .
like someone in the next room with a toothache.”

“It does, doesn’t it? You really ought to hear it after a good heavy spring rain. You’d think you were at a royal funeral.”

The horse splashed through water that was scarcely deep enough to wet its hooves, then scrambled up the far bank onto the level path. They crossed a grassy field, and then the forest closed about them once again. As they rode ever deeper into the cool, shadowed wood, a wind rose, and the air filled with voices. The deep drone of basses rumbled from the trunks of ancient oaks, and thin tenors sang clear and sweet from the tops of the tall pines. They had reached the Singing Forest at last, and in safety, and the beauty of its song made words quite unnecessary. The voices surrounded them like an a
cappella
choir of angels, growing

ever richer and finer, until they glimpsed a broken tower ahead, and a poignant melancholy note crept into the song. Louise gave a little stifled sob, then a sniffle, and then was bravely silent again until they emerged from the Singing Forest to the neglected grounds of a castle half in ruins.

At the sight of her home, Louise could hold back her feelings no longer. Walls had fallen; towers had crumbled; massive stones lay in a tumbled sprawl, like dominoes flung by an angry child. The wooden roof of the keep had collapsed in several places, and windows gaped to show the sky. The grass was high and thick, blanched by autumn to the pale hue of almonds; vines reached high up the ragged walls. Everywhere was neglect, abandonment, and the ravaging of time.

“Oh, Princess, it’s all gone to pieces, and it used to be so lovely!” Louise wailed. “Beautiful crenellated walls, and round towers with painted timber hoardings
. . .
and fine smooth lists in front, for jousting and tourneys
.

and look at it now!”

“It’s
. . .
picturesque,” said Princess, trying her best.

“It’s a ruin! A desolation! Oh, why did I return here? I should have known better! It’s all madness and vanity!” cried Louise, her words coming between outbursts of tears.

“Be brave, Louise. We had to come here to seek cousin Hedvig’s descendants. They’re your only hope. It’s too bad about the castle, but—”

“Too bad?!
It’s heartbreaking!”

“You can rebuild it once you’re yourself again. First things first.”

Louise took deep slow breaths to calm herself. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right,” she said tautly. “I mustn’t give way to my feelings. Let’s have a good look around.”

The gossamer steed picked its careful way among the rubble and the clinging grass in a slow circuit of the walls which, though fallen in many places, had nowhere been breached to the extent that a horse might enter. Coming at last to a dilapidated bridge that led to the gatehouse, the animal hesitated and pawed anxiously at the ground.

“I think it’s nervous about crossing the bridge,” Princess said.

“Silly beast! Even after all these years, that bridge will support an army. My father employed the finest workmen in seven kingdoms,” said Louise indignantly.

“No sense in forcing the poor creature. I’ll tie him out here and we’ll walk across,” Princess said, lightly dismounting.

She looped the reins over a fallen tree. The horse at once set contentedly to grazing, and Princess, with Louise resting on her shoulder, walked to the end of the bridge and set one tentative small foot on the stone. There was, a faint grating, a groan, and the rattle of dried mortar and gravel cascading down the side of the ditch. Princess stepped back quickly.

“I think we’d better fly across,” she said.

“Of course!” Louise cried excitedly. “I keep forgetting that you can fly! It will give us a much better view of things.”

They lifted off and circled the walls once again, this time at tower height, looking down on the bailey. It was empty, save for the debris of fallen partitions and caved-in sheds, and the remains of what had probably been a well-house. The grass was tall in the places that received the most sun, and a few saplings had sprung up around the ruins of the well-house. It was a forlorn, depressing scene, and Louise maintained a gloomy silence.

Princess climbed higher, until she could look down on the keep. Charred beams were all that remained of the roof, and debris was strewn about the upper floor. The hoardings were burnt away, and several stones of the crenellated parapet had fallen, but the building seemed otherwise intact.

“Was there a battle, do you think?” Princess asked.

“No. Lightning, most likely. Or plain carelessness,” Louise replied despondently.

“It must have happened recently. I can smell wood smoke.”

“It doesn’t look recent.”

Princess came down daintily on one of the merlons and sniffed the air, eyes shut in concentration. “All the same, I smell wood smoke,” she said.

With all the force of feelings too long held in check, Louise cried. “Oh, that wicked, evil, smelly old Vorvas! It’s all his fault, all of this! We had such a beautiful, impregnable castle, and just look at it now!”

“Let’s go inside. There may be something that will tell us where we’ll find Hedvig’s descendants,” said Princess, lifting off.

Louise sighed. “They’re probably all dead. Of shame. Or despair.”

“It won’t hurt to look. And it will be nice to get out of this cool air.’’

Princess swooped down and entered the keep by a window on the third level, where the great hall had been. She was startled by the sight of a small fire burning in the great fireplace, and a table drawn up nearby on which were a trencher and a flagon of wine.

“Someone’s here, Louise,” she said, zooming up to ceiling level and surveying the room carefully.

“We’ll take care of any intruders, dear. And please remember: Panstygia.”

Blade at the ready, Princess landed by the table. Taking up fighting stance, she announced in a loud clear voice, “I know you’re here. Come out at once and explain yourself.”

For a moment there was no response, and then a ragged, dirty youth with straiv-colored hair and wide blue eyes crept from behind a moldy arras on the far wall and fell face down at Princess’s feet. He was trembling.

“I believes, I believes, really I does!” he cried in a muffled voice. “I only never said so because nobody ever asked me! Nobody ever asks poor Shanzie anything, ever, nohow, but I believes in angels!”

“i’m not an angel,” Princess said.

The huddled figure was still for a moment, absorbing

“Yes, your worshipfulness! It belonged to a beautiful princess who was enchanted by a wicked sorcerer ever so long ago. So people say. And they say that the beautiful princess will return one day and take away all the evil magic that’s been placed on the land.”

“And so she has, and so she shall!” cried Louise in a call like the midnight clangor of brazen bells.

At the sound of the sword’s voice, Shanzie dropped to the floor with a soft despairing whimper. He lay there, hands over his head, awaiting death, the devil, or whatever worse might befall.

“Oh, get up, Shanzie,” Princess said.

“The sword, your greatness, ma’am—it talked to me!” Shanzie squeaked.

“Of course I talked. Do you think I am an ordinary sword? I am Panstygia, Mother of Darkness, the great black blade of the west, returned at last to my ancestral castle. I shall free the land from evil and restore my lost kingdom to its former glory. Is that clear?” the blade thundered.

Sbanzie made a faint mewing sound. Whether or not he understood was uncertain, but he was not arguing.

“You need not fear. Serve me loyally and you will be well repaid,” said the sword more mildly.

“Serve us
both
loyally,” Princess added.

Shanzie looked up. Clambering to his feet, he eagerly blurted, “Oh, I will, I’ll serve you faithfully, I will, I swear it! What must I do?”

“Well
. . .
there’s nothing at the moment
. . .“
said Louise.

“Oh, yes, there is,” said Princess. “Shanzie, get this place cleaned up. But first, clean up a private room with a good working fireplace, lay a fire in it, and bring me plenty of fresh evergreen branches to sleep on. What are you cooking over the fire here?”

“It’s a rabbit, your supreme ladyship, ma’am. It’s yours. Take it.”

“Thank you, Shanzie. It should suffice. You may eat