A Tale of Two Castles

“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?

Of course he would be. Perhaps he’d been on his way to a sick animal when I’d seen him outside the king’s castle.

“I should like to observe, now I’m here.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

They started off. I waited a minute or two before moving. Then I followed, peeking into horse stalls, cow stalls, and another pig stall as I went.

But if Nesspa were here, he would bark or whimper, unless he was asleep or unconscious. Or dead.

Princess Renn and Master Gise walked toward the lamplight, past a corner stall and the intersecting aisle.

“Sickness or injury?” the princess asked.

“Flying goat spiders, Your Highness,” Master Gise said.

“On a goat? I must see.”

I reached the corner stall. As I turned left toward the firelight, I knocked over a broom, which landed with a soft thud. I froze, my heart booming in my ears.

“What was that?” Master Gise said.

“La! I heard something fall over.”

Was she addlepated? Did she want me caught?

“I’ll go and see,” Master Gise said.

I eased open the next stall I came to. Crouching, I backed in with my eyes shut, as if I’d be unseen if I couldn’t see.

“It must have been only a mouse,” she said. “No need to go.”

“I’ll be just a minute.”

“Stay, Gise. I need you to hold her head. There, honey.”

Thank you, Master Dess.

“The bites are blue and green and puffed, like moldy bread.” Princess Renn’s voice quivered. “The pitiable, hapless goat.”