Part 11 (2/2)
”Not if you tell me some others. I just want someone to talk to. I've been here for almost three years now. I never go anywhere, and no one ever comes to visit. You saw how you were greeted. It's the same with everyone else. Not that there's much reason for anyone to want to come here, anyway.” He paused. ”Do you know where you are?”
”Of course,” she declared at once. ”This is Libiris.”
”Then why did you come here? Surely, you didn't come by accident?”
She hesitated. ”Didn't you just tell me no one ever comes here on purpose?”
He c.o.c.ked his head. ”I did.”
”Well, there you are. I got lost. A mistake.” She waved one hand dismissively, hoping he believed her. ”But what are you doing here?” she followed up quickly. ”What keeps you?”
”I'm an apprentice to His Eminence, in service to Libiris.”
She pursed her lips. ”You keep mentioning that name. His Eminence. Is he some sort of ruler or Lord? How did you become apprenticed to him?”
He frowned. ”It's kind of complicated. Can we talk about it in the morning? You look tired.”
Again, she hesitated, this time because she sensed he was hiding something. But she really didn't have any right to demand answers to her questions if she wasn't prepared to answer his. Even if it irritated her.
She managed a smile. ”I am am tired and I tired and I do do need to sleep. But can I have something to eat first?” need to sleep. But can I have something to eat first?”
Thom stood up at once, unfolding his angular frame. ”We'll go down to the kitchen. Then I'll take something out to your friends. I still think it's funny that you are traveling with G'home Gnomes.”
She couldn't argue with that. But there was much about her life that she found odd of late, so the Gnomes in particular didn't stand out. She stood up with him. ”Would you like me to tell you something about those Gnomes?” she asked him.
He nodded eagerly. ”I would, indeed.”
Together they went off to find the kitchen.
HIS EMINENCE.
The trouble with being raised a Princess of Landover is that it makes it very hard to settle for anything less. Sterling Silver, for example, was more than her home; it was her caregiver. A sentient being, it knew instinctively what she needed and provided it for her. A bed that was just right for her size and shape, suitably warmed each night, floors that were heated to order, food prepared and delivered, air that was sweet smelling and always fresh, a channeling of sounds that were pleasing and comforting, clothes to wear, and beautiful things with which to decorate her rooms-these were just a few of the comforts she had been provided, always without her asking. The castle was magical and capable of magical acts, and it had looked after the Kings of Landover and their families since its inception.
Nor was her transition from the castle to the Carrington Women's Preparatory School particularly difficult. She was no longer able to rely on the buildings for special service and care, but if she wanted clean clothes to wear and fresh sheets to sleep on and good food to eat, there were people who could provide them all. And there were a plethora of advantages that even Landover lacked. Her father's world was technologically advanced, so there were movies and televisions and radios and cell phones and computers and vast numbers of retail stores and malls to enjoy. There were airplanes and automobiles and trains and buses for transportation. There were cities that were vast in size and filled with exciting places, some of them actually educational. All in all, it was a fair trade-off for what she was leaving behind in Landover, and she had found it an exhilarating experience (when she allowed herself to do so).
There was nothing at all exhilarating about Libiris. In addition to being dark and dank and cold, it felt like a tomb for the dead. The air was stale and smelled of decay. Her room was a smaller version of the larger structure-close, cold, and dead feeling. Her bed was miserable and her pillow, a rock. She found no clean clothes to wear, no water to drink or bathe in, no toilet facilities of any sort, and no windows to let in fresh air. The silence of her surroundings was like a great weight pressing down on her. Now and then, she would hear a small noise from somewhere far away, but she could never identify it and be rea.s.sured that it meant the presence of other living creatures.
She made it through the night, surviving an uneasy sleep, still dressed in the clothes she had worn coming in. She woke to blackness, but when she arose from the bed a tiny light flickered on over the door. More magic, she noted. She found the door unlocked and walked out into the hall. Tiny lights flickered on up and down its length. She wondered where Thom might be sleeping, suddenly anxious for his company. But there was no way of knowing how to find him. She walked the hall from end to end, stopping at each door and listening to the silence beyond as if it might reveal some secret. She did not venture beyond the hall once it turned down other corridors, afraid she would become lost in what appeared to be something of a labyrinth.
Finally, she returned to her room and sat down on her bed to wait. Idly, she began sorting through the few possessions she had brought, laying them out on the bed for study. At the bottom of her duffel, beneath the few items of clothing, she found the compa.s.s, the virtual map ring, and the book on wizard spells that Questor had given her. Below all that was the fairy stone she had brought as a present for her grandfather and had failed to give to him. She had carried it all that way and forgotten she had it. She held it in the palm of her hand, feeling immeasurably sad. She found herself thinking about all the things she had taken for granted in her life before this, the way you do when you are feeling sorry for yourself and wondering what has brought you to your present state. But thinking of it didn't make her feel any better, so she shoved such thoughts out of her mind and began concentrating instead on what it was she intended to do with herself now that she was here.
The irony of her situation did not escape her. She had fled from Sterling Silver for the express purpose of not being forced to come to Libiris as her father's envoy, and yet here she was anyway. She could argue all she wanted to that it was a matter of circ.u.mstances; that she had come here not because her father wanted her to but because it was her own choice, a choice made out of necessity and one that she could revoke at a moment's notice. She could rationalize that her presence was mostly due to Edgewood Dirk-wherever he was-who had talked her into coming, persuading her it was the only place in which her father would not think to look for her.
But it was all words, and none of them mattered more than the fact of her being here in a place she did not really want to be.
She stewed about it for a while, and then finally there was a knock on the door, and when she called back it opened and Thom stepped inside.
”Good morning,” he greeted cheerfully. ”Are you all right?”
She brushed back her hair and gave him a short nod, unwilling to admit that she hurt everywhere and hated everything. ”Is there somewhere I can wash?” she asked instead.
He took her down the hall to one of the doors she had pa.s.sed earlier and opened it for her. Inside, there were counters with basins and pitchers of water. On the wall hung towels. None of it looked too clean or too new.
”You can use these,” he told her. He looked vaguely embarra.s.sed. ”I'll stay outside until you're done. So that no one disturbs you.”
When he was gone, she stripped off her clothes and began was.h.i.+ng herself as best she could, thinking all the while how much better things would be if she were back in Sterling Silver. Halfway through, it occurred to her that she could make it better simply by using a little of her magic. A shower with hot water, a soft towel instead of a harsh rag, and a little warmth in the floors would make things almost bearable. She nearly gave in to the temptation. But using magic would risk revealing her location to her father and mother. More than that, it would indicate a certain weakness of character. If she used magic to lessen her hards.h.i.+p, she was admitting that she wasn't tough enough to deal with things the way they were. She hated the idea that she wasn't strong enough to endure a little discomfort. She thought herself better than that, and she wasn't about to do anything that would prove her thinking wrong.
So she suffered through the coldwater splash and the freezing air and the rank smells and the rough surface of the towel, and she was pretty much finis.h.i.+ng up when a panel in the wall opened and a handful of rangy monkeys appeared. At least, that was what they appeared to be as they crowded into the room, all but tumbling over one another as they pushed clear of the opening. When they caught sight of her, naked save for the towel she was desperately trying to wrap about herself, they straightened up as if electrified and hissed like snakes. She screamed in response-more from embarra.s.sment than fear-yelling at them to get out.
The door to the room flew open and Thom charged in, caught sight of Mistaya, made a vague attempt at s.h.i.+elding his eyes, and then quickly placed himself between the monkeys and her, shouting loudly at the former until they all piled back through the hole in the wall and slammed the panel shut behind them.
”Sorry about that,” he muttered, keeping his back turned and his eyes averted. ”Those are some of the Throg Monkeys. They aren't supposed to be in this part of the building, but they seem to go wherever they want these days. Even His Eminence can't keep them in line. Guess they've been using this washroom for themselves.”
”Can you just keep looking over there until I'm dressed?” Mistaya asked rather pointedly.
”Oh, certainly, of course,” he agreed at once. ”I wouldn't have come in at all if I hadn't heard you scream, but then I ... Well, I didn't know what ... It could have been anything, after all ... Really, I didn't see anything ... much.”
He trailed off awkwardly, apparently unable to find any good way to end the conversation. She left things hanging there while she quickly finished drying and dressing in her old clothes, promising herself a change as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
”What sort of creatures are those Throg Monkeys?” she asked finally. ”Trolls or kobolds or what?”
He shrugged. ”I don't know. I don't even know where they came from. His Eminence found them and brought them here to do the heavy work in the Stacks. Which was a waste of effort, it turns out. They don't do very much work at all. They wouldn't do any except that I found a way to make them. They seem to think that work is beneath them. Mostly, they just sit around looking bored.”
”Except when they're poking their noses in where they don't belong.”
”Except for that.” He hesitated. ”Did they frighten you?”
”They came through the walls rather suddenly. So, yes, they frightened me. But they won't get a chance to do that again, I can promise you.”
She finished tying the stays to her blouse and cinched her belt. ”Throg Monkeys, huh. I thought I knew every species of creature in Landover, but I never heard of them.”
”I thought the same thing,” he agreed. ”Can I turn around now?”
”You can.” She waited until he was facing her. ”There, you see? No damage done. But I am hungry.”
He took her back outside and down the hall to the kitchen where he had fed her the night before. The kitchen had been empty then, and it was empty now. She couldn't quite figure out who did the cooking or when they did it, but there was a pot of something bubbling on the stove. Thom ladled them up two bowls of something that might have been thin stew or simply gruel, added hunks of bread, and pumped two cups of water from a sink. They sat at the same table, a small wooden block with benches, and consumed their meal. It did not look appetizing at the outset and did not improve with the tasting. Mistaya ate hers anyway, concentrating on the bread. She needed something in her stomach.
”Now that you're here,” he asked her after the meal was nearly consumed, ”how long do you intend to stay?”
She thought about it a moment. ”How long do you think I will be allowed to stay?”
He shrugged. ”Depends. If you want to continue to pretend to be my sister, you can stay as long as you like. Otherwise, I think you better make plans to leave after breakfast.”
She stared at him in disbelief. ”That's rather abrupt, isn't it?”
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