A Tale of Two Castles(22)

I looked up. The line of his lips had softened, his face was no longer red, and his eyes seemed wider. An easier, more relaxed face made me feel easier, too.

“This way.”

A robin landed on his shoulder, ruffled its feathers, and stayed. Cats might hate him, but not all animals. The dog seemed comfortable at his side.

He must have noticed that I was rushing to stay ahead of him, because he stopped. “You can ride on my shoulders.”

What would I hold on to up there? His great ears? What if I fell and pulled an ear off with me, or grabbed his silver pendant and swung from his neck like a bell clapper? “No, thank you.”


He reddened again. I had insulted him. He set off at a slower pace, a considerate ogre. I tried to think how to apologize without making the insult worse.

He sneezed hugely. “Sulfur.”

The robin flew away.

“We’re near the lair.” He liked frankness. “Count Jonty Um, I was afraid of falling off your shoulder and pulling your ear down with me.”

He began to smile. The smile broadened, mouth half open, white upper teeth shining, bathing me in sweetness.

How changed he was! Almost as if he’d shape-shifted.

The smile faded and his expression dulled again, but I had lost my fear of him.

The lair’s doorway was wide enough to admit us side by side. Masteress Meenore faced us from just inside. The count sneezed again.

ITs smoke tinted from white to blue. I deduced IT thought ITs odor had caused the sneeze, as was likely.

“Welcome, Your Lordship,” IT said.

“Thank you.” He let go of the dog’s chain and she trotted away, snuffling the floor.

IT stiffened, meaning, I was certain, that as soon as the dog and the ogre left, the lair would be scoured again. The animal made straight for the fireplace bench, where IT had placed bowls and refreshments—apples, pears, dried dates, and figs.

The count went to the animal. “Shoo, Sheeyen.”

She loped to the door and curled up on the threshold.

“May I take your cloak, Your Lordship?” I said, without considering how enormous it was.

He put it in my arms, but I wasn’t overwhelmed. The wool was so fine and light that the cloak weighed no more than my own. I folded it and placed it atop the coin basket by the hearth.

IT had moved the table between the fireplace bench and the fire. On the tabletop ITs precious pillows lay in a row.

“Please, Your Lordship, seat yourself.” IT gestured at the table. “It is sturdy. You will not break it.”

The count sat, his back to the fire, leaning forward, balancing himself so that the table didn’t take his full bulk. He sneezed again and blew his nose politely on the sleeve of his tunic, which today was evergreen silk.

Masteress Meenore’s smoke darkened to slate blue. IT lowered ITself on ITs haunches between the cupboard and Count Jonty Um.

IT had positioned the stool for me on the ogre’s left. I sat. Deftly, IT sliced a pear and an apple and fanned the slices into a circle in an empty bowl. In the center IT placed a fig. The result was a fruit daisy. I had never seen such elegance.

“Partake, Your Lordship.” IT gave the bowl to the count and gestured at the other refreshments. “Help yourself, Elodie.”

“Thank you, Masteress.” And thank you for my name. With my little knife I sliced half an apple and half a pear, some slices almost all peel and others almost all fruit, the peel ones for me, the fruit ones for sharing. As the lowliest here, my portion should be the most meager. I took figs and dates as well, all for sharing. They were delicacies.

Masteress Meenore helped ITself, too. I speared a date with my knife and placed it in the count’s bowl. He gave me his fig, which was a kindness.

Mother, Father, Albin! Look! Albin, I will remember this for my mansioning and forever: the smallness of me, the hugeness of them, these two creatures, each with teeth the size of ax blades, sharing fruit, the meekest of food.

Our snack would have been a silent one if not for IT, who held forth on the history of castle building. I learned about the progression from castles on low ground to castles on high, from wooden castles to stone, from few windows to few windows and many arrow slits.

I nodded and said nothing. Count Jonty Um said nothing as well and hardly even nodded. I wished he would speak. I wanted to hear an ogre’s thoughts on any subject: castles or cottages or the weather. Or being an ogre. Or shape-shifting. Especially the last two.

But he seemed to live inside a cocoon of silence, the air around him thick with it.

“In sum, the lords of badly defended castles rarely lived to build better ones. Have you eaten your fill, Count Jonty Um?”

He nodded. I hadn’t eaten my fill, but I moved the bowls to the floor by the hearth and returned to my seat.

IT held up a claw. “I must have the details, of course, but I know why you’ve come, Your Lordship. You are in danger.”





Chapter Thirteen

He stood fast. “No danger.”

ITs tail tapped the floor, an irritated sound.

After a full minute, during which the count stared over my masteress’s head, he sat again. “No danger. Nesspa, my dog, is missing.” He gestured at the dog, who still slept by the door. “Sheeyen isn’t mine. She belongs to the castle.”

And the castle belonged to him. But I understood. Sheeyen wasn’t his pet.