Will, the robber with the red moustache, began to sing. His voice couldn’t compare with Prince Maggers’s, but it was warmer, more human. He sang softly. Anya couldn’t make out the words, and it wasn’t a tune she knew. But she liked it. She liked it a lot.
“I never want to be an evil sorcerer,” said the princess firmly. She could feel the music inside her, stripping away her weariness and fear. Ardent was leaning against her leg, warm and comforting, his ears pricked up. It was probably lucky there were no trumpets, because Anya knew the dog wouldn’t be able to resist joining in. Some trumpeters didn’t mind, but most didn’t realize Ardent was also making his own music and not protesting the noise. “I could never give up music, or … the things I love.”
“That is a good thing to remind yourself, and to ask yourself whenever you are tempted to use magic,” said Bert. “Now, we need to talk. Like I said, I hear things, but I need to know more. What is your Quest, exactly? And what is your plan?”
“Then you will decide whether to put off robbing me or not?” asked Anya.
“Then I will decide whether to help you or not.” Now Bert did look at Anya, and her rather harsh face was momentarily transformed by a smile. “We shall see.”
Anya took a deep breath, and told Bert everything.
So,” said Bert. “You intend to find these ingredients for your magical lip balm, turn Denholm and Shrub back into humans, and also find allies against Duke Rikard. What then?”
“Well, we’ll fight Duke Rikard,” said Anya. “Defeat him. If I have the lip balm, his greatest sorcery will be no use because I’ll be able to change back anyone he transforms. But I’ll need allies to fight any soldiers he has, because he’ll hire men, and transform animals into fighters, and he might have quite a lot by the time I get back.”
“I meant what do you intend to happen after you defeat Duke Rikard?”
A puzzled frown gathered together across Anya’s forehead.
“Morven will be queen, and I’ll go back to studying in the library.”
Bert nodded slowly. “Will Morven be a good queen?” she asked.
“Um,” said Anya, flustered. “She’s the oldest … ”
Bert’s eyes opened wider, questioningly. “And that makes her fit to rule? Tell me, in your reading, do you study history?”
“Not really,” said Anya. “There isn’t very much in our library. I don’t know why not.”
“It is because the little kings and queens of Yarrow typically don’t like to be reminded that they were once merely nobles, or mayors, or sheriffs,” said Bert, shaking her head and pursing her lips. “And most particularly they do not like to be reminded that once there was a code of laws that limited what they could do to their ‘subjects,’ who were once not subjects, but citizens of the kingdom.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” said Anya uncomfortably. She didn’t like admitting ignorance.
“Of course you don’t,” said Bert. “Very few children or even adults now know anything about the All-Encompassing Bill of Rights and Wrongs in the High Kingdom of Yarrow. But once, it laid down the rights and obligations of the ruler of the kingdom to their people, and the ordinary folk did not have to fear such as Duke Rikard or your sister. Or even yourself.”
“Fear me?” asked Anya, astonished. “Why would they fear me?”
“If you were queen of Trallonia you could have anyone there imprisoned or executed—or you could tax them everything they own, could you not?”
“I suppose so,” said Anya. “Only I wouldn’t.”
“What about your sister, Morven?” asked Bert. “I have heard she likes pretty things. What if she heard of a dress made from cloth of gold and trimmed with emeralds, and she didn’t have enough money on hand to buy it? Would she tax the villagers and farmers to get the gold, even if it beggared them?”
Anya was silent for quite a long time.
“I think the dogs wouldn’t let her,” she said. “But … but she might try.”
“The dogs may only advise. Not decide,” Bert pointed out. “They would try their best, it’s true. At least they remember the Bill.”
She glanced over at Ardent, who had been given a bone by a kindhearted robber who missed his own dog. The royal dog was contentedly gnawing it near Anya’s feet, but he was still listening.
“The All-Encompassing Bill of Rights and Wrongs?” he said now. “Have to recite it twice a year, c-c-closest full moon to midsummer and midwinter. Over at the old stone circle on the Hanging Hill. Tanitha leads the recitation and then we howl.”
“I always wondered what that howling was about!” exclaimed Anya. “Why didn’t I get to go? I like howling too.”
Ardent shrugged.
“I don’t know. It’s a dog thing, the reciting. No humans c-c-ome.”
“It doesn’t sound like a dog thing at all!” protested Anya. “What are these rights and obligations in this All-Encompassing Bill of Rights and Wrongs?”
Ardent looked at his bone.
“You want to hear me recite it now? It isn’t the time. And we aren’t on the hill.”
“Yes, I would like—”
“Keep your jaws for your bone,” said a voice from a higher terrace. “I will recite the most important clauses of the Bill, straight from my beak.”
“Ah,” said Bert, half turning around to glance up. “This is who I wanted you to meet. Anya of Trallonia, greet Dehlia, the last surviving warden of the High Kingdom of Yarrow.”
Anya peered up at the moonlit terraces, looking for a human silhouette, but she saw nothing till her eyes were caught by movement. She squinted, unsure what she was looking at, before Dehlia spoke again.
“Yes, I am the last warden, but there will be others again, one day.”