“The stables?” The count had probably searched there—
and here—but the dog might have been taken somewhere else first.
“Excellent. The grooms will be asleep. La! Hide an animal among animals, like hiding a ring in a mountain of rings.”
Nothing like hiding a ring among rings, but I didn’t say so.
She held out her hand. “We’ll go there now.”
How courteous she was, to clasp the hand of a kitchen maid.
We left the tower. The princess walked with a bounce as we crossed the inner ward and passed between two apple trees laden with fruit.
“He will be so happy if we find Nesspa.” She stopped, tugging me to a stop, too. “If we find Nesspa, I want to bring him to His Lordship. I want him to be grateful to me alone.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” I could give no other answer, although I wanted Masteress Meenore to be known as the finder, through me. “Do you . . .” She seemed friendly enough to answer a question. “Do you hold His Lordship in high esteem, Your Highness?” I wanted to know if anyone did.
“Certainly I do. I esteem him very much!” We walked again. “He is taller than I, wealthy, with excellent table manners.”
So much for true esteem.
“The miller’s son, Thiel, is also taller than I and possesses fine table manners, but he isn’t wealthy.”
My Lahnt table manners might not be good enough for Master Thiel.
“Jonty Um is handsome for an ogre, don’t you think? Not so handsome as Thiel, I suppose. Do I esteem Jonty Um?” She raised her arms and twirled, kicking an apple across the courtyard. “Father has betrothed me to him, Ehlodie. A king always betroths a princess.”
My mouth fell open. Hastily, I closed it. News of the coming marriage had not reached Lahnt. I wondered if it was widely known here and if my masteress knew. Few in Two Castles could be pleased.
We started walking again.
“I shouldn’t have told you. It’s still a secret. Father wants wealth, a strong arm in battle, a lion if need be, and I like a strong arm, too.” She laughed. “And a gentle lion. La! He is lovely as a monkey. I do not fancy him as a bird.”
I didn’t know what to think. Would they be happy?
We reached a door and, to the side, a descending stairway. I stopped, not knowing which we wanted, door or stair.
“You are ignorant, Ehlodie.” Her voice was gay. “The stables are below.”
Twelve steps down took us to another wooden door. I eased open the bolt, hoping not to awaken any sleeping stable hands. As soon as the door cracked an inch, I smelled the familiar farm odors.
Oh. Hot bran. I whispered, “An animal is ill.” Hot bran and something else that smelled sharp and stung my nose.
“La! Very ill?”
How could I tell from the scent of a poultice? “I don’t know, Your Highness, but someone is likely to be tending the beast.”
I heard voices, one of them a lilting, “Honey, honey.” Master Dess!
“What should we do, Ehlodie?”
Leave? Sneak in?
Neither. She was a princess and could do what she liked. “Perhaps Your Highness might enter, announce your presence, say you were sleepless, wanted air, and heard voices.”
She nodded eagerly. “I can do that.”
“You might ask what’s amiss. I’ll wait a minute and come in after. If anyone notices me, I’ll say I lost my kitten and—”
“Jonty Um allows no cats.”
Of course not. “Er . . . my pet pig.”
“Do you have a pet pig?”
“No, Your Highness.”
“Aha! Subterfuge.” She flung the door open.
I jumped away from the doorway.
She strode inside.
I peeked in and saw her march through a wide aisle between animal stalls. “What’s amiss?” she cried. “I was sleepless, heard voices, and wanted air.”
Not quite right, but who would question her?
I slipped in, mansioning myself as a shadow. This end of the stable was in deep gloom, but I saw fireplace glow far to my left, and tallow lamps shed smoky light on a distant stall straight ahead, where two men stood.
“Your Highness?” The speaker wasn’t Dess, and his accent was neither Two Castle nor Lahnt. He pronounced his h as ch, chighness.
I peered over the gate into the first stall along the aisle, where a sow and her piglets slept, nestled together as neatly as a mended plate. No Nesspa.
Princess Renn cried, “Is one of the beasts ill? Desper-ately ill?”
Had we happened on another affront to His Lordship, someone injuring one of his animals? The sow grunted in her sleep.
The voice with the new accent said, “Your Highness, a stable is no place for a lady.”
“A princess is not a lady.” She sounded indignant. “They are entirely different. Who are you?”
“Gise. Head groom, Your Highness.”
I shrank into the shadow of the stall as Master Gise advanced toward her. If I moved, he would certainly see me.
“The matter is well in hand, Your Highness. Master Dess, the animal physician, is tending the beast.”
Master Dess, the animal physician?