Mearsies Heili Bounces Back (9 page)

On the other tentacle, if that Evil Mage wasn’t used to
illusions, and pies, and the MH gang’s ways of doing things ...

“Yeah. Let’s go,” I said.

“Yay!” Klutz yelled.

Id sidled a look around and then joined in when Puddlenose
hooted and rubbed his hands. We left, walked until dark, and then found a barn
to hole up in. Puddlenose was the expert here, showing us how to make hay
nests. The hay was really old, left over from last year, but it was comfy
enough if you flattened it so it wouldn’t tickle your neck or face.

The next day, we bucketed along, and reached the outskirts
of the city.

If you didn’t notice how empty of people it was, you’d
describe it as a pretty city. The stone was not the weird stuff of our White
Palace after all, but several different types of local white rock, some
glistening, some not, with streets made mostly of pale gray or honey-colored
brick. Carvings everywhere, with lots of arches, and flowering trees growing in
circles with broad avenues leading off. The buildings were silver-veined marble
closer to the palace, divided off by winding canals with pretty arched bridges
all over, a style I was going to see again when I ended up in Colend, on
another adventure later.

The closer we got to the central palace (which was several
stories tall, with four big towers above the slanted golden roof) the more
stone statues we met. Just about everyone was frozen in the act of bustling
away from the palace, some looking back over their shoulders.

“Evil Mage, you think?” Gwen asked, after we passed another
one.

“They don’t look surprised,” Seshe observed.

“What do you mean?” Dhana asked, frowning into the face of a
tall, gaunt man, who scowled worse than PJ when Mumsie-dearest didn’t instantly
give him what he wanted.

Seshe completed a circle around one. “Like they tried to
outrun something.”

Once she said it, I saw what she meant. None of them had
that look of “What’s happening?” you’d expect of someone confronted by an Evil
Mage saying,
I’m gonna turn you into stone, har har!
They looked more
annoyed, like “You can’t do that to
me!
”

We walked over a bridge larger than most, its arched
supports and rails edged with carvings of festooned garlands. Here, we found
more statues. Most were adults, though a few kids were there, too. We passed
one girl who looked like a spoiled brat—she’d been frozen mid-flounce, a fancy
dress flying out, her nose in the air, her mouth turned down.

“That,” Gwen said, “looks like a princess of the worst kind.”

“Makes me wonder how the spell knows who’s or what’s
royalty. Like, is it kings only? Is a new princess okay? How about an archduke?”
Klutz asked.

Id looked at her, his eyes wide under his unruly mop of
blond hair. “Archdukes?”

“Sure! I remember somebody blabbin’ about ’em in Paris. They
had a lot of ’em in that other empire, the one to the east.”

‘Hey, there’s somebody in there,” Puddlenose said,
interrupting this talk. Just as well, because I couldn’t figure out whether to
worry or not, and Sherry looked scared again.

We entered a huge room that looked like a throne room, a low
couch cushioned with embroidered satin pillows at the far end, surrounded by
lots and lots of bright color. The color, we saw as we got closer, was
contained in round and oval and cylindrical shapes—vases and bowls and urns.

On the couch sat a plump little man, surrounded by paint
supplies. The white marble of the room contrasted with all the tables and
shelves full of containers of various sizes, and cups, and fire screens, all
painted in what people call lapidary style: tiny, brightly glowing patterns and
shapes, as if bejeweled. I rarely took much notice of such stuff, but these
were beautiful.

The little man was busy painting a half-done vase, his pudgy
fingers holding a tiny paint brush that looked like it had three hairs in it.
Blue paint glowed at the end like a gem. He carefully touched it to a bunch of
tiny cherries, and the contrast of blue and crimson made the colors seem to
sparkle. Then he bounded to his feet, and addressed us in the local lingo.

“Can’t understand,” I said, mentally reviewing the pie
spell. If we threw enough of them, maybe he’d slip and slide, and couldn’t
chase us ...

“Are you here to break the spell?” He’d switched to
Mearsiean, that same accent used by that girl we’d met the day before.

And he looked straight at me.

I turned to the others. The gang shrugged, sidled looks that
meant
You’re the princess, you do the talking
, so I said, “Maybe.”

He sighed. “Well, I
hope
so.”

“What?”

“What?”

“What?” (etc)

He snorted a laugh, then sat down, and pointed at a golden
tray full of tarts and biscuits stuffed with cheese. “Here. Have something to
eat.”

Sherry stretched out her hand toward the tray, then snatched
it back. “Are you the Evil Mage?” She pointed at the food, which smelled so
good, my stomach was growling. “I don’t want to get turned into a frog!”

“I’m supposed to be a mage. And I learned what I had to, but
oh, I do so hate magic. But I’m bound here until the spell is broken. I hate it
here. It’s boring. Everybody hates me. Why should I have to pay for my
grandfather’s ambitions?” He scratched his head with the end of his paintbrush.
The wrong end—blue pain splotched his pale curls. I noticed that his
clothes—blue silk robe layered over blue silk trousers—was all paint-splotched,
too.

Puddlenose helped himself to some tarts, and sat on a
hassock. “What’s the story?”

The little man groaned. “How many times must I tell it?
Well, here ’tis. You know that many in this part of the world were born with
magic, after they came through the world gate.”

I thought of the horrible Yxubarecs—but then they’d refused
to give up their shape-changing powers, unlike the Mearsieans. Who’d been
shape-changers way, way back.

I said, “We know about the Mearsieans, and the Yxubarecs.
You’re not one, are you?”

He waved his hands. “You have it backwards! My grandfather
came through the world gate, seeking the four who serve as queens here. It’s
old politics from the other world—way before what you call the Yxubarecs were
confined to their cloud—and has to do with magic. But, hmmm, the four ... well,
call them sisters, in human terms. They loved this world. It’s a beautiful
world, if you get to see any of it outside this city.”

Puddlenose waved an apricot tart in agreement.

“And they got along fine with the local beings. They were
asked to become rulers, as they had so much magic. They agreed with the great
mages here to lay down certain powers, and in return they could stay. My
grandfather had thought to use those powers. They refused to join him in his
plans, and thwarted him. In revenge, he turned them into stone. But the
enchantment is difficult to break.”

“We heard—only foreign royalty can do it,” Klutz said,
smacking her skinny chest. “We’re all foreigners, and we’ve got royalty.”

A bunch of thumbs all turned toward me.

The little man peered at me, his bushy blond brows raised
hopefully, then he sighed as he bent to carefully mix a new shade of green. “So
many come here, and say they are royalty. I’ve never met so many kings,
princes, princesses—
especially
princesses—and the like. Well, here’s the
rest. The queens’ cousins, who had taken human form, bravely tried to help
out—and got stuck under a horrible spell that thrust them outside time to
wander and never find rest or peace.”

“That sounds even worse than the stone spell,” Seshe said.

“Yes.” The man dropped the paint brush onto the palette. “I’m
tired of running a kingdom where no one wants me. I just want to paint, and to
sell my works! But if I leave, then the spell becomes permanent. My grandfather
wanted to start a dynasty.”

“What do we do?” I asked. “I mean, I take it the magic
doesn’t work if you happen to be wearing a crown?” I tapped mine.

“Nope. All kinds of crowns on our statues, as you’ve
probably seen. As to how or why it works, your guess is as good as mine, beyond
the antidote riddle,” he said. “I never could
master
magic, my mind just
wandered too much, always into colors. I’d read a spell ... and think about
what color it might be painted in.” He sighed. “I know just enough to maintain
things here.” He yawned, brought up his hand to cover his mouth, and the
paintbrush in his fingers jabbed him with green paint just above one eye.

Puddlenose said, “What kind of royalty, can you say? I mean,
were all those statues of people running away really fake kings and the like?”

“I guess so.” The little man shrugged again, and then
reached down for a brush. But then he seemed to remember his manners, and
folded his hands politely over his round middle. “In truth, I’ve often wondered
why we had that many false kings and princesses about. Maybe it’s the thought
of the reward that draws ’em. Or maybe some of them are real, but not real
enough?”

Seshe said, “Can you tell us what makes them real? Do they
have to be named as royalty on their name day, or what?”

Her tone was odd, making me once again wonder what her
background was. And Puddlenose looked so fidgety, I remembered that his mother
had been a princess, and that terrible Shnit of the Chwahir had tried to make
him a crown prince, just out of cruelty.

And then there was me.

The little man shrugged. Didn’t take an atomic scientist to
figure he didn’t particularly care.

Klutz made a sour face as she pointed at the guy—she didn’t
think the Evil Mage was much on brains, though he obviously had plenty of art
talent.

I said, “Is the antidote to the spell written down anywhere,
even as a puzzle or clue?” Clare had told me about enchantments often having
their antidotes put as verses, or riddles, or hints, as an added protection.
Maybe he’d forgotten an important word or two.

“Oh yes. Up in the magic room, in the Winter Tower,” the
little man said. “It’s so fatiguing to walk all the way up there, and for what?
Boring books.”

Naturally the winter tower was the highest of the four, but
since we were here ... and there was always that reward.

“Let’s go,” I said.

“All of us?” Id asked, tipping his chin toward the food.

“Stay if you want. Save some eats for us.”

Seshe and Dhana went with me—Dhana to look through the
windows and sniff the air.

We pounded up and up and up the marble stairs, me thinking
of the White Palace at home, and wondering how Clair was. Bet she was worried,
which made me worry. I looked at my ring again, but shook my head. I felt I had
to stay with the others.

At last we came into a room filled with book cases. They
were jammed with hand-written and bound books, most of them looking really old.
In the middle of the round room sat a couple of tables, one with a book on it,
another bare. Between the book cases, in a circle, windows streamed with light.
Dhana drifted toward the nearest so she could look out at the view.

When I turned around, I discovered Seshe staring at
something. There was an archway I hadn’t noticed. A faint golden color glowed
in the door, through which we could see golden furniture. On tables inside this
chamber, someone had piled gems and coins and jewels in careless haste. All
glittering in the light.

“Wow, what a stash.” I took a step forward. “Is that their
treasure?”

Seshe turned away. “Might be. If so, that fellow doesn’t
seem to be guarding it very well.”

“You know, if we grabbed some, we could probably buy our way
home.” I took another step forward. “It’s not like anybody is using it.”

Seshe wrinkled her nose, and I could tell she hated the
idea. Of course. It was someone else’s stuff. The other way to look at ‘if we
grabbed’ was ‘if we thieved’. I sighed, turned my back, and began hunting along
the books—until I realized I couldn’t read any of the titles.

“This was a waste of time,” I exclaimed, just as the Evil
Mage appeared, panting.

“Thought I’d better come along,” he puffed. “Do you know, no
one’s come up here in years?”

“Why not?”

“I think it has something to do with the Enchantment of
Intent,” he said cheerfully. “The person who crosses this threshold with the
intent to possess sees a door open, oh, right about there, with treasures and
things beyond. And when they step through, snap!”

“Snap?” Seshe and I said together, as we whirled around to
back away from that treasure room—as if the archway would turn into a mouth and
pounce to bite us.

The archway was gone. Like it had never been. But I knew
what I’d seen, and judging from Seshe’s round eyes, she’d seen it, too.

“Snap.” He clapped his hands.

“Where do they go?” I asked, edging back again, just in
case, and curling my bare toes under.

He shrugged.

Wow, I thought. What if I’d been in a grabby mood?

“Two kings of Chwahirsland vanished that way, one right
after the other, scarce weeks apart, I’m told.” The man chuckled as if he’d
told a great joke. “The next one stayed away, but it didn’t do him any good.
His successor, the one over there now, took the throne the usual way.”

Puddlenose had already made it clear that the Chwahir in
recent centuries didn’t just hand off the throne. They took it. Shnit, the
current king, had killed his entire family, except for Kwenz, who had been sent
to the Shadowland. And Puddlenose thought another might have escaped as well.

“They haven’t bothered us since. That’s one good thing.” He
rocked back and forth from heels to toes, the paint splotches on his outfit
gleaming.

“Um, which book would have the antidote riddle or whatever,
the thing about foreign royalty?” I asked, now completely rejecting the idea of
touching anything in that room. Seshe also had her hands behind her, though she
bent close to the shelves, looking at the hand-written titles.