Part of Your World (Twisted Tales)(33)
“What, Your Highness?” the man said, leaning closer. “I’m sorry, your voice…”
“MINES,” she croaked. “FINE MINES. WITH COPPER.”
“Absolutely, Princess,” the man said. His eyes had darted briefly, questioningly, to the prince before resettling on her.
Eric started to feel relief at this close call of being noticed, then realized something: no one paid attention to him anymore. No one had in years. And that “relief” that he now seemed to be accustomed to? What was that? Wasn’t he crown prince? Shouldn’t he be dealing with the head of the guild and all his boring business himself? That was his duty!
The man was still talking.
“…And if we didn’t have to make bronze or pewter, or things out of tin, we would be set. Steel has its uses, but there are other things to be made besides weapons, and those other things need other metals.”
“What things are those?” Vanessa hissed. Maybe if she were speaking normally, with her large eyes and eyelashes aimed at the men, it would have come out as Teach me—I’m an innocent young girl who relishes your older-man wisdom. But there was a strange cognitive disconnect because of the husky whisper: almost like she was a much older woman poorly play-acting the role of young ingénue.
While Eric was pondering this, he also was puzzled by what she said. What things are made of metal? Didn’t she have eyes? Didn’t she live in the castle and use the objects within it?
“Well…Your Highness…” the man said awkwardly, looking around for support. “Most people in the kingdom, even wealthy folks like myself, tend not to eat off golden spoons and forks.” He indicated the royal couple’s place setting with a tip of his head. “Or burn candles in silver candelabra. Pewter, bronze, and tin make all the tools and useful things for the rest of us—they have for thousands of years. And since we don’t have tin in our mountains, we must trade for it. And we can’t right now.”
“Well, then,” Vanessa whispered thoughtfully. “We must go to the place it is found and take it for ourselves.”
The man blinked at her. “Bretland?”
She looked at him slyly out the corner of her eyes, gauging his reaction. Eric watched her tawdry performance, horrified and yet fascinated.
“You want us to…invade the Allied Kingdoms of Bretland?” the man asked again.
“Never say never,” the princess purred.
“Excuse me? I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear Your Highness.”
“I said, ‘Never say never.’”
“Beg pardon?”
Eric wanted to leap up and announce that this ridiculous meeting was over. That Vanessa should not even suggest the—incredibly stupid, unheard-of—idea of military aggression against one of the world’s greatest powers to a civilian, much less without discussing it with him first.
But…
While he wasn’t a very skilled chess player, his mother had told him that the most important thing in gamesmanship was this: you could never be completely sure of other person, so never make a move until you were sure of yourself.
And he wasn’t. Not yet. Not until he had some time to think and figure things out.
“I think this merits more discussion,” he said aloud. Which was perhaps more than he had said in a while, but so wishy-washy no one could accuse him of acting forthrightly with thought and opinion. Vanessa did shoot him a quick sidelong glance, but that was all. “Your concerns about tin and, I assume, aluminum, will be taken into consideration. Thank you for your time, gentlemen.”
The group of men, somewhat startled at the prince’s words, all nodded and made quick bows both to him and then the princess, and shuffled out. The head of the guild gave Eric one last, appraising look before following.
Eric steeled himself for a tense and obnoxious lunch with his princess…
…but once again, the prince was saved.
“My dear, I’m afraid I must off to bed now with this nasty cold. One must take care of illnesses before they grow serious,” Vanessa hissed, indicating her throat. “So sorry to leave you alone.”
“That’s quite all right. I pray you feel better,” Eric said, trying not to joyfully reach for a leg of quail before finishing his sentence.
He was nothing if not courteous.
Good, little Eric swallowed the whole “cold” thing.
She strode down the hall to her bedroom, Vareet and her manservants trailing like eddies in the wake of a very large ship. Her mind raced. This was what it was like to be a queen. Er, princess. This was what it was like to actually rule and wield power and make decisions and get things done. Real monarchs didn’t shy away from their problems; they dealt with them head-on and then either beat them into submission or used them to further their own objectives.
Every stumbling block is a stepping-stone.
She laughed to herself, remembering the first time she had heard that saying, from one of the especially sycophantic Tirulian nobles. At the time she had no idea what it meant. Because obviously if there was a stumbling block in the ocean, you just swam over it.
She checked out herself askance in one of the large gilt-framed mirrors that lined the eastern hallway. Getting her gait just right was one of the hardest things about being on land. Imperial, regal—yet simpering and attractive. She wished in retrospect she had chosen a slightly older, more imposing human body. But of course twits like the prince needed something young and pretty to fall for. Absolutely no respect for or appreciation of maturity and wisdom. And pulchritude.