Part 1 (2/2)
”I have in mind to make some alterations in our life,” he said.
She set down her winegla.s.s and tilted her head to one side, puzzled. ”Alterations?”
Prospero leaned back. ”Long ago I told thee, Freia,” he began, ”that I am a Prince in my own realm, far-distant Landuc-a Prince, and should be King, but that my brothers conspired against me and denied me my rightful place.”
”1 remember,” she said.
”Dost remember? 'Twas many winters past, and we've not spoken oft since. For it displeaseth me to chew it over.”
”I do remember,1” she said, ”for you told me of your friends there, and of beautiful Lady Miranda, and of the great city and the Palace gardens.”
”Thou rememb'rest, then, that my pompous brother inflated himself from King to Emperor 'pon his accession to the stolen throne.”
She nodded.
”Thou rememb'rest that I told thee 'twas not finished.” His eyes were like high grey clouds with the sun behind them.
She nodded again, wary of his intensity.
”Time's come,” Prospero said, ”for me to make my move A Sorcerer and a Qentkman <=-- 7=”” 'gainst=”” that=”” false=”” popinjay=”” and=”” knock=”” him=”” down,=”” i've=”” labored=”” long=”” here=”” and=”” elsewhere,=”” setting=”” my=”” plans=”” in=”” slow=”” motion,=”” and=”” now=”” the=”” hour=”” is=”” nigh=”” for=”” swifter=””>
”What are you going to do?”
He seemed not to hear her. ”To move that action shall require changes here. I warn thee now; I've spoken of some to thee ere this, and I saw them little please thee. Yet change cannot be denied.”
Freia tensed, straightened. ”Why not? Why shouldn't we live as we have, here, you and me and your sorcery and my garden and things? I like this. Don't you?”
”I like it well, wench, but a man cannot sup on strawberries all the days of his life,” Prospero said. ” Twill change, I tell thee, and we'll change too. My idleness ill-fits my nature, and it must end and this idyll withal.”
She shook her head, contrary. ”This is perfect, just as it is, and there's plenty to do and I'm not idle. What are you going to change? What is lacking? Why shouldn't we stay the same?”
”Freia, Freia. Think'st thou that I was always as I am today? Wert thou? Nay; I've bettered thee, hast said it thyself. What thou art today, is what I've made of thee; my daughter, a lady, and soon a princess: bettered again.” He had taken her hands in his and held them as he held her gaze.
”I don't want to be a Lady or a Princess! Why do you want to be a Prince, or a King? Aren't you happy here?”
”Freia, 'tis more than a thing I wish to be. Tis what I am. This place is comfortable enough, were I but a sorcerer, but I am not. I did not choose this place to be comfortable in, but to labor, and my labor here draws near completion; the fruits of my patience come ripe, e'en as thy garden be-ginneth with hard work and small shoots, then groweth to savorous maturity. And thou, thou didst not choose this place; 'tis all thy world, I know, and though thou'rt content enough here solitary 'mongst thy fruits and flowers, I know the little discontents that shall fret thee to aversion in morrow-days. Better to remember thy garden-isle fondly later than to hate it.”
8.'E&zaBetA ”I love this place, I always shall, I love it as it is,” she said, heart-wringingly. ”Please don't change it. Please. What are you going to do, Papa?”
”We must have a city, Freia, walled and strong-”
”No!”
”-and bridges o'er the river, therefore great numbers of hardy men to build-”
”No!”
They stared at one another. Freia's expression of stubborn determination mirrored Prospero's, and Prospero's hands tightened around hers balled into stone-hard fists. ”Darest thou contradict me?” he snapped. ”I'll not countenance it; the world moveth forward, be thou retrograde as thou wilt. It must happen, Freia, and it shall, and thou'lt see: Twill like thee better than thou think'st.”
The Prince of Madana, Heir of Landuc, lay on his bed fully clothed and stared at the white-and-blue scrolled ceiling.
Something had happened to him last night. It was something unpleasant. He was dressed, and that was wrong; he never slept in his clothes-he would sooner go naked to dinner. His head ached. Shreds of dreams still clung to his thoughts: suffocating dreams, drowning dreams, entangled dreams of nets and sticky webs.
”Sir?” someone said.
The Prince turned his head and saw the concerned faces of five people who stood at his bedside. They were all leaning toward him, eyes wide, and the same expression of relief and rejoicing washed over all five.
”Doctor Hem,” said the Prince, wondering what was wrong with him.
”Tell the Emperor and Empress,” said Doctor Hem to the footman beside him, who hurried out. ”Yes, Your Highness,” he added to the Prince, smiling, bowing.
”What's that stink?” The Prince frowned, swallowing and beginning to sit up.
”No, no! Do not rise, Your Highness, the crisis is only just past; do not rise, lest the balance of humors be dis- %. Sorcerer and a QentCeman <=- 9=”” rupted=”” again,”=”” cried=”” the=”” doctor,=”” and=”” made=”” him=”” lie=”” down=””>
”What the blazes is going on? What's the matter?” demanded the Prince, grabbing the Doctor's arm.
The door banged and the footman cried hurriedly, ”His Majesty Emperor Avril-”
”Silence,” said the Emperor impatiently, entering, and glared at the others as he did. ”You. What are you doing here? Nothing? Out! We know you, you're Hem's boy. Out.”
They got out, all but the Doctor and the Emperor. The Emperor glowered at his son from the side of the bed.
The Prince thought he'd much preferred the gratifying audience now departed. He played a filial note, cautiously. ”Father, am I ill?”
”Perhaps you can tell us. You've been asleep like this since we don't know when.”
”What?”
”What have you been smoking? Drinking, perhaps?” demanded the Emperor furiously. ”With whom? Some b.a.s.t.a.r.d you dragged in off the street-”
”Your Majesty,” said Doctor Hem hurriedly, ”still the balance of humors is very delicate and it would be best not to-”
”Silence. Well? What have you to say for yourself?”
The Prince stared at his father, confused, and shook his head a little, and sat up again. Hem started forward to stop him and retreated at the Emperor's look.
”Tell us,” said the Emperor, arms folded, glowering at his son, his eyes like coal.
”I don't remember,” the Prince said, shaking his head again.
”Don't remember?”
The Prince rubbed his temples.
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