Wisdom's Kiss (47 page)

Tips, overcome, stared at the floor.

"
Doesn't matter?
It's the future of Montagne! It's
my
future, my sister's, it's—"

Trudy glared at her. "It's what? It's
my
future too? No, it's not. My future is over. You stole my future."

Wisdom recoiled. "How dare you!"

"How dare I? What's that, princess talk? How dare
you!
You can have anything you want, in the whole world. Why did you have to take him?"

Wisdom opened her mouth. She closed it again. "I'm sorry," she said at last. "I didn't 'take' him. I love him..."

"I hope we crash into a mountain! That's what your future should be!" Trudy glared at the princess and spun to glare at Tips—

Then froze. A beam, powerful as a lighthouse, flashed through the basket's weaving.

"Trudy?" Hesitantly Tips broke the silence. "What is it?"

Trudy rose to her feet, Escoffier joining her at the rail. She peered into the clouds. "Do you see that?"

Tips and Wisdom glanced at each other and shook their heads.

Now Trudy could see clearly. It was not a lighthouse, or a sunbeam—not natural light. It was joy. Shining out of the clouds was a promise of joy as powerful as anything she had ever known. She pointed with one quavering finger. "It's ... happiness. That way." She turned to the others. "What's in that direction?"

"Montagne, of course," Wisdom answered promptly. Trudy and Tips looked at her, baffled, and shared a baffled look between them.

Wisdom scowled. "What else would it be? Oh, please, don't be so obtuse. It's patently obvious ... Isn't it?"

Any Soul Who Contemplates Even Glancing
at the Pages of this Volume Will
Be Transformed into a Toad
Suffer a Most Excruciating Punishment.
On This You Have My Word.

Sunday—morning—

I fell asleep! I don't believe it! Tips & I stood watch—we talked & talked atop the Globe avoiding the basket & that girl so miserable—she had Escoffier for company anyway. But then we did return & we fell asleep even tho we v. much didn't mean to & when I woke up we were in the middle of a great enormous impenetrable cloud completely lost & making matters so much worse Trudy was chastising Tips for the way he'd treated her being quite sharp which is v. unlike her & saying a great many things to him and to me too about which she clearly felt v. strongly—

But then she stopped & peered off into the clouds & said she saw happiness which I should quite like to know what that looks like but it was not the time to ask so instead I pointed out—because the two of them together were acting as dim as a box of rocks—that given that she was returning to Montagne it would make sense for her to be happy.

She & Tips looked at each other & she said she wasn't from Montagne. Which is completely stupid because of course she is! Why else would she have that ridiculous name—which I doubtless could have phrased more tactfully but it's not as if mine's any better. Wisdom?
Temperance
? Providence? These aren't names—they're not even decent virtues! A good virtue is being able to fly or to write thank-you notes in your sleep or something like that. At least
Fortitude
is something I would appreciate possessing particularly given how regularly I betray the name I bear now.

So I said that even tho she might not be from Montagne her mother must have been and I asked what
her
name was and Trudy said as if winning an argument that it was Mina. "Which is short for...?" I asked. Because everyone I know with a name so pretty & short has a real name behind it that's ugly & long. Then Trudy thought for a moment & then whispered because you could tell she was only just remembering that her mother's real name was Mindwell. Which is extremely ugly & extremely virtuous & only someone from Montagne would ever inflict something that awful on a poor defenseless little baby girl!

Which I said—altho somewhat better than that I hope—& Trudy thought for a long while & then nodded so you'd think she was agreeing to wage war & she looked into the cloud & pointed.

If she is wrong we will crash into a mountain & die. But I don't think she is.

I'm v. pleased that I apologized to her about Tips. She deserves it.

8
TH EDITION

Printed in the Capital City of Rigorus
by Hazelnut & Filbert, Publishers to the Crown

MONTAGNE, CHATEAU DE

Situated at the mouth of the great fertile valley of Montagne, overlooking the switchbacked road that constitutes the valley's only point of entry,
Chateau de Montagne has for centuries been the best-defended fortification in the empire, and possibly its most attr active.
>
As the Kingdom of Montagne has historically been linked to sorcery, so, too, was its royal seat, and for many generations men whispered of magical passageways secreted within the chateau walls.
The chateau's roofs and parapets, framed against the mountain of
Ancienne
and culminating in the high "
Wizard Tower
," present a most arresting spectacle.
>
Within the chateau, the inner courtyard displays a neoclassical symmetry utterly devoid of repetitiousness or pedantry. Of particular note, and open to the public on state holidays, are the Great Hall; the Hall of Flags; the Throne Room; the Ballroom, paved in rose and ebon marble; and the Solstice Terrace. Recently erected on the north face of the chateau, the terrace projects over the high cliffs that define and protect the Montagne valley. Though most definitely to be avoided by acrophobics, the terrace provides an unmatched vista of the western mountains, particularly at sunset.

>

T
HE
S
TORY OF
F
ORTITUDE OF
B
ACIO
, C
OMMONLY
K
NOWN AS
T
RUDY, AS
T
OLD TO
H
ER
D
AUGHTER

Privately Printed and Circulated

MINDWELL
! Trudy had not thought of that name in twelve years!

It was wondrous, in fact, that she recalled it at all. Trudy could not have been more than five when she overheard a conversation between her mother and a handsome traveler as the Duke's Arms wound down for the night. Where are you from, the man asked, because your accent is not of Alpsburg. Normally Mina ignored such questions with a shrug, but this night she only laughed and replied, "My true name is Mindwell and that is answer enough."

Trudy's young mind could not fathom such a name, and Tips when she told him replied she must have dreamt it. And so Trudy agreed she had, and believed it until this moment. But it had been no dream. Her mother had been named for a virtue. Her mother—who had promised to tell her someday of her heritage but died before that promise could be fulfilled—her mother had come from Montagne.

Tips nodded. He had not forgotten Mindwell either.

Now Trudy stood in the basket of the Globe d'Or, pointing one shaking finger into the cloud that engulfed them—staring until her eyes ached and tears streamed down her face—and announced, "That way."

Escoffier pressed his warm body against her as he, too, peered into the blankness. Tips stood on her other side, though Trudy was far too preoccupied to concern herself with him, or Wisdom. She had more important concerns, for the vision of joy shining from those impenetrable clouds drew her with the same relentless power that draws the magnet north.

Escoffier began to mew, his tail lashing. Yet Trudy could see nothing in that oppressive white mist ... and then she could. "Look!"

A post loomed out of the cloud. No, not a post. An iron spire, attached to a steep conical roof sheathed in tile.

"It's a tower!" exclaimed Wisdom. "Good heavens, it's the Wizard Tower, of our chateau!" She could not resist a hug—though only a brief one—to Trudy. "You're brilliant! Now we can rescue Teddy, and Montagne!"

The cone shape slowly materialized ... revealing a platform carved into the slope as a pier is carved into seafront stones, edged with heavy iron rings.

"It's a dock!" Tips clapped Wisdom on the back. "How clever!"

Instead of elation, however, the princess blanched, her face clouding with something close to fear. "I've ... I've never seen that before. The
Wizard Tower
is—well, just be careful, will you? It's not—it's not human."

"Of course it's not; it's a tower." But Tips's fingers strayed to check the buckle of his sword belt, and he could not resist an anxious glance at Trudy.

She smiled back at him, beneficent in her newfound authority. To her, the tower radiated only peace. "It's fine."

So reassured, Tips leapt out as the basket scraped against the platform's slate pavers, helping Trudy (how nice it felt, his hands on her waist, however briefly!) and securing the balloon to the great iron rings.

Instinctively—for the tower, she could see, was
expecting
her—Trudy reached for a small door tucked into the platform wall, and before Wisdom could do more than strangle out a warning, she drew it open. Escoffier at once dashed into the dimness. With a reassuring glance at Trudy, Tips followed. Wisdom, on the other hand, kept a tight grip on the basket rail, testing the slate pavers against her weight. She smiled grimly at Trudy, then entered.

Marveling at her burgeoning confidence, Trudy ducked through the dark doorway herself. Almost at once she stumbled upon a spiral staircase, each step no wider than she was. She could barely make out a room—or roomlet, really—spread below her in the gloom. Vague shadows shifted in the corners as she descended.

Wisdom stood in the roomlet's center, staring at the spiral staircase as though she'd never seen it before. "I've never seen this before," she whispered hoarsely. "And I've been up here hundreds of times. Thousands..."

"It keeps going, you know." Tips stood, Escoffier mewing around his ankles, studying a hole in the floor: the spiral staircase continuing downward.

Wisdom slipped to Trudy's side. "Is this safe?" she whispered. "Because there's another staircase over there, a real one, that's the one we're supposed to use—that's the one I always use, and I know exactly where I end up—I mean, I've always known up to now, anyway—I'm babbling, aren't I? But that hole doesn't look safe to me."

Trudy, mesmerized, moved toward the darkness. "We have to go down there."

Wisdom again shuddered and then, belatedly remembering her position, declared that she should lead; it was her castle, after all. With a flourish and a mutter, she produced a bright handful of flame that sent the shadows flickering.

And so, princess at the fore, they descended.

The descent lasted hours—no, that was impossible. It could not have been more than ten minutes, but in that sepulchral darkness it felt interminable, the dust and damp melded into a slime that coated the impossibly narrow treads, the rough walls abrading Trudy's skirt and fingertips, the incessant and nauseating turning ... and always the throbbing insistence, shining from the depths, that they
hurry.