A Tale of Two Castles(69)

Not only more adventures, more consideration of my ideas and more friendship.

I told IT my decision over breakfast, and ITs smoke spiraled satisfyingly. “A commonsensical choice. You still have much to learn about deducing and inducing.”

In the morning we visited Count Jonty Um’s castle. Sir Misyur came to the outer ward to talk to us.

The king would live. Goodwife Celeste had saved him with broth and coarse herb bread. He’d slept a quiet night and was now closeted with His Lordship. Sir Misyur believed His Highness wanted assurance of His Lordship’s aid in any war against Tair. I thought the king would be disappointed. The count seemed to be a peaceable ogre.

Princess Renn had company in her tower. Master Thiel had charmed his way into visiting her. I supposed he must be stealing the gold rings from her fingers and the bracelets from her arms.

Master Onnore and Master Dure, the two guards, had not eaten my food. They’d been too occupied in searching for my purse—which they’d failed to find—and then in searching for me.

Sir Misyur dispatched a guard to the chamber, who returned with my purse, its wealth untouched. My masteress gave me back my cloth purse and kept the rest.

In the afternoon IT sold Princess Renn’s cap for twelve coppers, and I bought myself a kirtle, an apron, and a pair of shoes, all used, of course, but all in the Two Castles fashion, and my own cap—pink with red roses, hardly faded, embroidered around the crown. My custom went to a mending master on Roo Street, not to the mending mistress on Daycart Way who had insulted me, although I paraded back and forth by that mistress in my new finery. She seemed not to notice.

I had three coppers left from my purchases, which I knew I should save to send home, but I wanted to buy something for IT, who called ITself stingy but had shown me only generosity.

On the wharf I found a boat wright willing to sell me a block of cypress wood for a copper, a kingly sum for a snack, but I paid.

IT was selling skewers, so I headed for the lair to hide my gift. On my way I met Goodwife Celeste again, this time at the baker’s oven. When she saw me, she hugged me hard, then held me at arm’s length and scrutinized my face.

“You are well?”

I smiled. “Very well.”

“Safe?”

I nodded.

She shook her head. “IT should never have sent you to the castle alone. Thoughtless of IT.”

Thoughtmore, I would say.

She let my shoulders go. “We’re leaving shortly, but we’ll be back. I’ll look for you.”

“I’ll be happy to see you.” And sad to see her go.

She took her loaf from the baker, and I continued toward the top of town. At the corner I encountered a crier for the king, trumpeting that His Lordship had been a lion only momentarily and only during the feast, and that he had never mauled an ox or any living thing. I saw another crier on the next corner. Greedy Grenny was making amends.

In the lair I hid the wood block, which was as thick as my thigh, under my mattress and brought it out while IT was toasting skewers for our evening meal. I placed the gift on the hearth next to IT.

“For me?” IT dropped three skewers into the fire. Smoke rose from ITs nostrils in a green spiral.

I used the poker to rescue the skewers. “You said you like the taste.” IT liked cypress and hated oak. Oh no. Had I gotten that backward?

IT touched the wood with a talon. “For me?”

“For you to eat, if you like, Masteress.”

“For me?”

I nodded. “If you don’t like, perhaps we can put it in the fire or use—”

“Burn cypress, Lodie?” IT picked up the wood and hugged it. “That would be an outrage.” ITs inner eyelids closed while IT nibbled a corner. “Excellent quality. I have not received a gift in . . . forty-two years, and that was a trifle.” IT stroked the wood.

I smiled at ITs pleasure.

“You bought this with your cap money.”

I nodded, although IT hadn’t asked.

“Of course you have no other source of funds. You thought of me.” Trailing smoke spirals, IT waddled to the cupboard, opened it, and laid the wood on the top shelf. “I will savor it slowly, or perhaps I will simply save it.”

King Grenville never thanked me for saving his life. Maybe because I’d revealed his daughter as his poisoner, he felt no gratitude. Or maybe his gratitude was aroused only by a well-cooked dish.

His criers were believed about Count Jonty Um. The tide of popular opinion had turned. By now everyone knew of Princess Renn’s attempts on the lives of her father and her betrothed, and the count was pitied and no longer feared.

But the town’s goodwill might have come too late. Other than his visit to us, His Lordship stayed away for the next week. The princess and her father removed to their own castle, where she was again imprisoned.

Soon after their departure, more news broke on the town: Master Thiel was to become Prince Thiel and to marry the princess. He had persuaded the king that he would keep Her Highness from poisoning anyone ever again. The couple would be given a burgher’s house to live in, and Pardine would be Prince Cat of the kingdom.

I supposed His Majesty no longer wanted his daughter under his roof, and I doubted they would dine together often. On King Grenville’s death, King Thiel would rule.

Sentiment in Two Castles was divided. The victims of Master Thiel’s thievery were outraged, the rest pleased.