A Tale of Two Castles

Mistress Guard lifted the latch and pushed the door open. “In you go.” She shoved me inside.

The chamber was large and comfortable. In other circumstances it must have been guest quarters. A fire burned brightly and an oil lamp had been lit, no doubt the princess’s doing to keep me from suffering, as if light and heat could lessen my misery. A low door across the room would certainly lead to the privy.

The guards exited. The door groaned as a crossbar was pushed home. On my side, the key to the ordinary lock was in the keyhole, useless because of the crossbar.

Furnishings were a small table, a low-backed chair, a case of shelves that held no more than a sewing box and a clay bowl, a barred window too high in the wall for me to see out of, and a bed, a rich man’s bed, suspended from the ceiling by ropes and surrounded by drapes to keep out the cold. For extra warmth, a second blanket lay folded at the foot. I threw myself facedown across the coverlet and wept.

I don’t know how long I cried. For a while I seemed made of brine. I wept for the ogre, the king, the ox, the princess, Nesspa. And me. Thoughts of yesterday’s happiness were torment. I was unlikely ever to become a mansioner.

More than a few tears were caused by thoughts of my masteress. Why hadn’t IT flown with me to the castle? IT could have ripped me away from my captors.

Because IT doubted me. IT hadn’t ridiculed Master Thiel’s suggestion that I had plotted with Sir Misyur, and IT had called ITself a fool when the guards came, a fool for not deducing that I was the whited sepulcher.

That hurt most of all, ITs disbelief in me.





Chapter Thirty-Four

I heard the crossbar drawn back. I wiped my eyes and emerged from within the bed drapes. Two guards entered, their faces as blank as new spoons. One bore a tray on which rested pottage, bread, and a tumbler of cider. My empty stomach growled. The second guard blocked the door and seemed to have come solely to protect the first. From me!

The food bearer placed the tray on the table.

“Thank you.”

No answer. They left.

Hungry as I was, I set the tray on the floor and pushed the table to the wall under the window. I climbed up but still couldn’t see out. I placed the chair atop the table.

Taking care, I climbed onto the table again and stood on the chair.

Night had arrived, a bright, starry night ruled by a gibbous moon. Gibbous—rounded—a word Albin taught me.

The window bars bowed outward, so I could see down as well as out. Directly below me was the outer ward bordered by the outer curtain. The town lay too far to the west to see, but in the distance I made out the shiny black strait.

I climbed down and turned my ladder back into table and chair. The kitchen had given me no knife. How frightened they were! But I had been provided with a bowl of water, so I could clean my fingers before eating. I did so now. Afterward, I broke off a corner of bread, then dropped it back on the tray.

His Majesty had been poisoned. Whoever had done it might still be in the castle. Death by poison would prove me guiltless, but my cleared name would be no use to me.

I set the tray by the door, where it tempted me. If I had to keep looking at the food, I would eat it. I climbed up to the window again, poured out the cider, and tossed the bread and pottage. I hoped a hungry night creature wouldn’t dine and die.

We’d had no frost yet, so the crickets still sang, un-troubled by the plight of a human girl. A dark shape blew across the sky from north to south, turned and returned, angling my way, trailing purple smoke. My masteress!

My masteress, angry. I gripped the bars. How would I convince IT of my innocence?

IT crossed over the outer curtain and flew lower until IT was level with the tower’s second story. ITs right claw held a sack.

Again it wheeled back and forth, coming closer with each pass. I feared IT would break a wing on the tower. But IT whipped around and anchored ITself to the stone. Claw over claw, clinging to cracks, IT climbed to me.

“Lodie? Have you—”

“I wouldn’t poison anyone. I’m not a whited sepulcher.” I was weeping again. “I love the ogre.”

“Have you eaten anything here?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. And I’m not a spy.”

“Nothing? No drink?”

“None.”

IT smiled. I wiped my streaming eyes and dripping nose with my sleeve and smiled back. I had never seen IT look so happy.

“I couldn’t warn you not to eat in the presence of the guards. You believe I suspected you?” ITs smoke tinted pink. “You think me an idiot?”

“No. But you called yourself a fool. I thought, a fool for trusting me.”

“A fool for not realizing you would be accused. I never for a moment believed you to be a spy or a whited sepulcher.”

I tried not to sound reproachful. “Where have you been?”

“I found Dess and your Goodwife Celeste. They could tell me nothing about Jonty Um, but both have an understanding of poisons and their antidotes. They’re in the king’s chamber now, along with the physician, Sir Maydsin, who is worthless in my opinion. Dess slipped out to inform me His Highness will likely live.”

Relief swept through me. “Do they think I poisoned the king?”

“Dess and Goodwife Celeste?”

I nodded.

“They didn’t say.”

“Will the guards release me since His Highness is better?” I shook my head. “No. They won’t.” His Highness had still been poisoned.

“He’ll preside over your trial.”

And wouldn’t be merciful.

“Whatever sort of monarch he is,” IT said, “he will be fair. He wants to discover the true poisoner as much as anyone.”

How would he do that? “Masteress, would you bring me a few skewers and a jug of water?”

“I have.” IT let go of the tower with ITs right claw and held out the sack, which barely fit between the bars. Something inside jingled.

IT grasped the window bars with both claws. “Climb down, Lodie. You are too precariously perched.”