I turn to face the mercurial spirit. “Yes, and the Lord God did curse the serpent to crawl upon its belly for its sins,” I say in a grim tone. “Mayhap this isle is no Eden, but here as there, when temptation approached me, it walked upright like a man, and I have paid the price for heeding it.”
Ariel raises his hands in a peaceable gesture, the insubstantial sleeves of his garment fluttering around his slender white arms. “I mean no harm. Thou art about thy father’s business, Miranda, and the sooner it is brought to a head, the sooner I am freed from servitude.”
I eye him. “And is it my father’s business that you’re about today? Or is there some other reason that you come to plague me?”
He blinks at me, blue-eyed and ingenuous. “Is it not conceivable that I merely desire the pleasure of thy company?”
“It is unlikely.” Although I am eager to return to Papa’s sanctum and begin painting while the fluid lines of the snake’s coils are fresh in my mind, I find myself hesitating. If there is anyone who would know what troubles Caliban, it is Ariel; though it is equally true that that is because if there is anyone who is the cause of Caliban’s troubles, it is the vexsome spirit himself. “Gentle spirit, if I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?”
He purses his lips. “As to that, I cannot say without hearing the question, my lady. Thou knowest well that there are matters on which thy father has forbidden me to speak, and I am bound by mine oath.”
“Will you answer honestly if you may?” I press him.
“I will.”
“For a month and more, Caliban has been angry at me,” I say. “Do you know why?”
Ariel’s eyes darken. “He is not angry at thee, my lady.”
To my chagrin, I feel the prick of tears in my own eyes. “Then why does he treat me so unkindly?”
“O la!” The spirit’s expression changes to one of dismay. “Do not weep, my lady.” He sighs, the sound like a wind in the trees. “But as to thy question, it is one I may not answer.”
I wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my gown. “Did you do or say aught to set him against me?”
“I?” Ariel touches his breast. “I tell thee again, Caliban is not set against thee. He is set against himself, and thou art the cause of it.”
“How so?”
The spirit shakes his head. “That, too, I may not answer.”
I realize that Ariel has evaded my prior question. “Do you deny that you had aught to do with it?”
He is silent a moment. “Thou thinkest that I have no fondness for Sycorax’s spawn, and I will not gainsay it. Her loathsome blood and the darkness that is attendant on it runs in his veins. And yet, the witch’s whelp has a tender heart and mine is not unmoved to pity. Am I cruel to him? Aye, betimes I have been; and betimes it has been for no greater cause than a whim born of tedium or lingering spite. But in this matter, there is kindness in my cruelty, Miranda, and cruelty in thy kindness.”
I gaze at him. “I do not understand.”
“Nor can I make thee,” Ariel says with unwonted gentleness. “But thou didst beseech me to speak honestly, and thus I shall say this: Leave him be, my lady. Allow him his brooding and sullen anger and do not seek to assuage it; for if thou dost not, both of thee will suffer for it.”
“For kindness?” I say. “For love?”
There is a terrible sympathy in Ariel’s gaze. “Thou art the shoals on which Caliban wilt dash his heart to pieces.”
I shake my head in vehement denial. “No! Caliban is my only and dearest friend! I would never hurt him!”
Ariel casts his sea-shifting gaze skyward as though to beseech the Lord God in His heaven for patience, then lowers it to meet mine. His trickster’s smile is tinged with regret and the shadow of knowledge unspoken. “I wish thee the courage of thy convictions, Miranda, but I grow weary of thine ignorance.”
“’Tis not—” I begin indignantly.
A breeze springs up, and he is gone in a swirl of mist.
The sylphs that have accompanied me cavort without a care. Despite their presence, I feel so very alone.
Even so, I have attained that which I sought, and it is a thought that cheers me. I turn back toward the palace and thrust the memory of Ariel’s unwanted intrusion and his harsh implications aside, concentrating my thoughts instead on the movement of the serpent’s coils and the intricate patterns of its smooth, overlapping scales, envisioning them writ large on the walls of Papa’s sanctum and adorned with clawed feet and mighty wings, curls of flame spewing from its gaping jaws.
Bit by bit, the dragon takes shape in my mind and my hands itch to take up a brush and bring it to life.
By the time I return to Papa’s sanctum, I have nearly managed to forget the entire encounter.
THIRTY
CALIBAN
I do not mean to go back to the balcony outside Master’s sanctum, but after weeks pass … I do. At first I do because I am lonely and I miss Miranda, and even if it is dangerous to be there, I can watch her and she does not know. But then it is not only Miranda, but it is the pictures she makes.
You have magic in your hands, Miranda.
Those are the words I think to myself. I do not dare say them out loud and be found, no, but I think them to myself.