Part of Your World (Twisted Tales)(40)
“It’s for the invasion of the north?” Eric asked, nodding at the warship.
“An alliance with Ibria requires that Tirulia provide the sea power, Your Highness.”
Both men were silent for a moment. Eric stared out to sea; Grimsby looked at Eric, his pipe forgotten in his hand.
“She is going to bring us to war with the whole continent before this is over,” the prince swore.
“Oh, I hardly think so, sir,” the butler replied mildly. “Unless you conscript literally every citizen of Tirulia, you will be dealing with a civil uprising long before then. Sir.”
Eric blinked. Grimsby’s cold blue eyes and stalwart face gave no indication if he was being serious or flip. The man never offered his uninvited opinion on affairs of the kingdom, much less made jokes about it.
“I came out to say that I had lunch delivered to your study since you and the princess left before you had finished, Master Eric,” he added after a moment, finally putting the pipe away in his pocket. “So you may take it in private while you work on your music after your walk, as you are accustomed.”
“Lunch? Compose? Walk?” Eric looked at him, aghast. “There’s too much to do to have time to eat or…play around with music! I don’t know where to start! Bring me the decree I signed for the warships, and the original order for dynamite, and any official correspondence with Ibria! At once!”
Grimsby’s face broke out into a warm smile, like a beach that mostly sees cold rain and the pummel of waves but wants to prove it is entirely possible for it to enjoy the sun, if only given a chance. “I…felt there was something different about you today.
“Welcome back, Master Eric.”
After attending to her maquillage, Ursula put her muffler back into place and nodded approvingly at her “public” face in the mirror.
“Everything is arranged with the guards, Mistress,” Flotsam hissed.
“Excellent. Now all I need to do is figure out this mess.” She pointed at her throat, not bothering to whisper. No one was around who mattered. With a wave, she dismissed Vareet. The little maid scampered off, hopefully to make sure the rest of the royal apartments were being cleaned properly. That stupid dog’s hair got everywhere.
“Perhaps a new voice would help? A new…donor?” Jetsam suggested.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Ursula said thoughtfully. “Not a bad idea at all. I’ll get right on that, later. So much to do…throwing the little redheaded twit off the trail of finding her father…cementing our relationship with Ibria so I can proceed with our military plans….But right now I have to deal with a petitioner. Ridiculous, really.”
Her receiving room was little more than a large study with a few bookshelves and a partially hidden door in the back that led to the library proper. Taking up most of the space was a large naval-style desk strewn with the books she was currently reading, sheaves of notes, a log for meetings, and a small burner for the teas and tisanes she told people she enjoyed for their…medicinal properties.
Which was not entirely a lie. While being princess gave her a different kind of power than she was used to—power over people rather than mystical forces—well, call her old-fashioned, but magic was still magic. Its potential for destruction surpassed everything else.
And she had none in the Dry World.
So she set to work researching magic of the land. Among the many occult trinkets she kept hidden were bloodstained crystals; the tongues of several extinct beasts; a curvy, evil-looking knife with a shiny black blade—and several books bound in strange leather that did not smell very good. They explained many things, from the proper sacrifice of small children to the use of certain herbs.
In one of these she ran across a particularly interesting spell known as a circuex that could potentially and permanently imbue her with magic that she could wield in the Dry World. Unfortunately it was a bit messy and bloody, involving lots of sacrificial victims, and it required one very rare component. Fortunately this component was something she just happened to have—because, as said, she was a bit of a hoarder.
She played with the new golden chain around her neck and considered.
No, not yet. Casting the circuex required an awful lot of work and commitment. And an end to her fun with Tirulia! She had such plans for the little nation….Maybe she would pursue the matter later. For now she would work with her rather prodigious non-magical powers: manipulation, deception, and all the gold in the coffers of the kingdom.
And as for the kingdom, right then she had to deal with more pressing princess duties. She settled herself primly into a tiny, very ornate golden chair with delicate curled legs that ended in the sweetest little tentacles.
Flotsam took a polished brass urn from a shelf and carefully tapped out leaves that resembled ashes more than tea. Jetsam decanted water from a crystal jug into a tiny copper kettle and set it on the burner. How he lit it would have been unclear to any human watching the scene.
One never knew when a tea like this would be needed….
“You may let in the first,” Ursula announced grandly—only remembering to whisper at the end.
“Lucio Aron, of the St. George Fishermen’s Cooperative,” Flotsam said snidely. Ursula tried to not roll her eyes. She was a princess. She did not have time for fools such as this.
A small man with clothes noticeably shabbier than the metalworkers’ came in, bowing as he went. He clutched his cap and seemed generally uncomfortable.