A Princess Of Landover Part 11

She descended the hill in determined silence, not bothering to look behind her to see if the G'home Gnomes were following, knowing that they would be, resigned to the fact that she would probably never be rid of them. The descent took some time, and as she drew nearer to her destination she was able to determine that it did not improve in looks upon closer inspection. Everything seemed to be in disrepair and suffering from obvious neglect. No lights burned in the windows or from the towers, and the darkness suggested a total absence of life. Perhaps that was how things were these days at Libiris, she thought hopefully. Maybe its tenants had abandoned her. Maybe there was no one here anymore, and she wouldn't have to beg for admittance. She would just have to find a way in-and the place would be hers for as long as she wished!

Excited by the idea, she hurried ahead to the ironbound doors, gaining confidence as she neared. Of course there was no one here! Why would there be? Who would live in a place like this? Even the overseer had long since departed, discouraged with the work his charge had required, disappointed in the lack of support he was receiving from the Kingdom. After all, no one had come here for years. Not even Abernathy or Questor Thews had come. They just a.s.sumed that someone was still here.

She felt positively buoyant.

She reached the doors, grasped the huge iron knocker, and rapped it hard against the plate, announcing her arrival. The sharp clang of iron on iron echoed through the stillness and slowly died away. Nothing happened. She waited impatiently, already searching for a way to open the door from without. Impulsively, she tried the handles, but the door was securely barred. She might have to chance using magic, just a little, to gain admittance. Or maybe there was another way in, through another door on another wall. Surely there was no reason to keep such a decrepit place as Libiris locked up once it was abandoned.

Then, rather too suddenly, a small door set within the larger doors, close down to the ground, popped open. A head crested with a tuft of white hair poked out, and a pair of gimlet eyes looked up into hers. "What is it?" the owner asked in a dialect she could only barely understand.

"I'm seeking shelter for myself and my friends," she declared, still recovering from her shock at actually finding someone here.

The head tilted upward slightly, and she saw a face that most closely resembled that of a rodent, long and pointed and hairy. The eyes narrowed with suspicion, but she refused to be intimidated and held their gaze with her own. "Can you let us in, please?" she pressed, trying hard to sound both desperate and helpless and not angry.

Teeth flashed behind a wicked smile. "No, I cannot. Go away!"

The head disappeared back inside, and the door slammed shut.

Mistaya stood staring at the tiny portal in a mix of fury and frustration, very tempted to knock down the doors using her magic and march inside, announcing who she was as she did so and demanding that her tormentor be made to answer for his uncivilized behavior. She was cold and tired and hungry, and she did not deserve to be treated like this.

The G'home Gnomes appeared at her elbow, their wizened faces looked up into her own tentatively. "Maybe we ought to just leave," Poggwydd suggested from one side, while Shoopdiesel nodded in hasty agreement from the other.

Maybe that would have been the best thing for it, but Mistaya was already set on doing the exact opposite. She had put up with enough of people pus.h.i.+ng her around. She reached up for the knocker and rapped on the plate once more, much harder this time. She had only a few seconds to wait before the smaller door popped open anew. The little man reappeared; he must have been waiting just on the other side. He was angry now and not bothering to hide it.

"I told you to go away!" he snapped.

"Go away to where?" she snapped back. "We are in the middle of nowhere. Don't you know anything of the King's guidelines to hospitality? He wrote them himself when he was made King, years ago. All strangers are to be given food and shelter when they seek it in genuine need; none is to be turned away without good reason. What reason do you have to turn us away? Are you frightened of a girl and two G'home Gnomes? What is your name?"

All this appeared to catch the ferret-faced fellow off guard. He shrank back a bit under the force of her wrath. She watched his mouth tighten and his eyes fix on her belligerently.

"My name is Rufus Pinch!" he snapped. "And I do only what I have been ordered to do and nothing more. I don't know anything about the King's guidelines to hospitality."

"Well, you should!" she shot back, even though she had just made it all up. "I shall be forced to report you to someone who can afford to take the time to come out here and instruct you on their usage! Turning away supplicants in the middle of the night is unacceptable behavior!"

The little man hunched his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest defensively. "Well, I can't let you in," he repeated.

Things seemed to have reached an impa.s.se, but suddenly another section of door-this one apparently the upper half of the smaller-swung open and a second figure stepped into view. It was a boy, not much older than she was, rather tall and angular in build, his black hair worn long, his jaw lightly bearded, and his eyes bright with secret laughter.

"What's happening, Pinch?" he asked the little man, arching an eyebrow at Mistaya. "Is there a problem?"

"This girl wants in, and you know the rules as well as I do. We are not to allow entry to anyone, no matter-"

"Yes, I know the rules. But this is my sister, Ellice. She's here at my invitation." He stepped forward quickly and took hold of an astonished Mistaya's hands. "h.e.l.lo, Ellice. I gather you got my letter and decided to come help us with the work. I'm very happy to see you."

He bent forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "I'm Thom," "I'm Thom," he whispered in her ear as he pulled away. he whispered in her ear as he pulled away. "Play along." "Play along."

"You never mentioned a sister," Pinch declared accusingly.

"You never asked," the boy answered quickly. "No one ever asks about my family, so I don't talk about them. But I have one, you know. Everyone has a family."

Pinch did not look satisfied. "Well, no one said you could invite her to come here," he pressed. "The rules are the rules. No one is allowed into the building. No one is to be given shelter or fed or encouraged in any way to try to enter or to remain at Libiris. His Eminence has made it quite clear."

"His Eminence has also made it quite clear, on more occasions than I care to think about, that we need someone else to help with the work. You and I and the Throg Monkeys are not enough to accomplish what is needed. You've heard him say that, haven't you?"

"Well, yes, I've heard him, but-"

"Have you done anything to try to satisfy his complaints?" the boy interrupted quickly.

Pinch frowned. "No, I-"

"Then please don't criticize those of us who have. There is a reason I am chief sorter and chronicler and you are an overseer. Now let's go inside and get my sister warm."

Still holding Mistaya's hand, the boy pushed his way past a reluctant Pinch into the doorway. "Wait!" Mistaya exclaimed. "What about my friends? My escort," she corrected quickly. "They must come inside, too."

Pinch stepped quickly to block their way. "I draw the line here!" he declared, glaring at the G'home Gnomes. "These two were not invited to come and are not fit in any case to do the work. They must remain here!"

Thom nodded reluctantly, giving Mistaya a look. "I'm afraid that's so. But there are stables on the south side of the building where they can get out of the weather and sleep the night. I will see that they have something to eat."

"Humpphh," Pinch growled disagreeably. "Very well. But they must leave here tomorrow at first light."

Poggwydd and Shoopdiesel looked very put upon but showed no inclination to argue. Recognizing that Thom had pushed the matter of gaining entry as far as he could, Mistaya nodded. "Good night, my faithful friends," she called over to the Gnomes, not without some small warmth. "Thanks for bringing me. I will see you in the morning to bid you farewell."

She followed Thom through the small door and heard Pinch close and bar it tightly behind her.

Before the unfriendly little man could offer further thoughts on the matter of Mistaya's arrival and admittance, Thom led her through a small, tunnel-like entry into a much larger anteroom, its walls lined with benches and hooks for hanging coats and wraps, high ceiling intricately carved with figures that in the near darkness she could not make out. Stray lights burned here and there, but mostly the room was draped in shadows. The thick smell of must and stale air filled her nostrils, and a chill had settled with a proprietary sense of ent.i.tlement.

Thom led and Mistaya followed. The wood floors creaked as they walked down the length of the room, which was twice as long as it was wide. A high desk, elevated on a platform to allow whoever manned it to look down on whoever sought admittance, ran across the far end of the room, effectively barring entry to whatever lay beyond a pair of ma.s.sive wooden doors set in the wall behind. The desk was old and splintering at its joints, and there were spiders spinning their webs where s.p.a.ce permitted. She a.s.sumed there were spiders elsewhere in the room, as well, in places she couldn't clearly see. She looked down as they approached the desk and noticed faint clouds of dust rising in small puffs with each footfall.

"Don't mind that," Thom advised cheerfully. "This room doesn't get much use."

She stepped close to him. "Why did you say that I was your ..."

His face darkened as he quickly put a finger to his lips and shook his head. He pointed to his ears and then made a sweeping gesture toward the walls. "Later," he "Later," he whispered. whispered.

He led her around one end of the desk, but did not try using the larger portals, choosing instead a small door at one corner of the room, a door so un.o.btrusive that she might have missed it completely if he had not taken her right up to it. He grasped a handle that was all but invisible, pulled the door open, and led her through. A hallway beyond wound off into a darkness that would have been complete if not for the handheld lamp he suddenly produced and fired with his touch, something she recognized immediately as magic. She arched one eyebrow at him, thinking as she did so that there was more to this place and its inhabitants that she had first thought.

They pa.s.sed a number of doors, all of them closed, but Thom finally stopped before one and opened it. Inside was a very small, unadorned bedroom, dark and windowless, with a bed, an ancient cedar chest, a small set of shelves, and a table and chairs. There were no decorations hanging from the walls, no rugs on the floors, and no hints of color anywhere. Mistaya looked around in dismay.

"We can talk here," the boy said, giving her a quick, rea.s.suring smile. "They don't listen here. My room, maybe. But not here. These are the servants' quarters, the rooms set aside for the keepers of the stacks and the files, and there haven't been any of those for decades. There's only Pinch and the Throg Monkeys and me. And His Eminence, of course. Sit with me."

He seated himself on the edge of the bed and motioned for her to join him. She did so, feeling braver now, more sure of herself than when she had faced Pinch alone. She didn't know who this boy was, but she didn't think he meant her any harm.

"Why did you help me back there?" she asked him. "Why did you tell that little man-Pinch, you called him-that I was your sister?"

He shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I didn't plan it. I saw you, and I just decided to help you out." He shook his head. "I get bored here. There's no one to talk to. I thought anyone traveling with two G'home Gnomes out here in the middle of nowhere would have stories to tell."

"Well, I might not want those stories told just now. Will you make me go if I don't choose to tell them?"

"Not if you tell me some others. I just want someone to talk to. I've been here for almost three years now. I never go anywhere, and no one ever comes to visit. You saw how you were greeted. It's the same with everyone else. Not that there's much reason for anyone to want to come here, anyway." He paused. "Do you know where you are?"

"Of course," she declared at once. "This is Libiris."

"Then why did you come here? Surely, you didn't come by accident?"

She hesitated. "Didn't you just tell me no one ever comes here on purpose?"

He c.o.c.ked his head. "I did."

"Well, there you are. I got lost. A mistake." She waved one hand dismissively, hoping he believed her. "But what are you doing here?" she followed up quickly. "What keeps you?"

"I'm an apprentice to His Eminence, in service to Libiris."

She pursed her lips. "You keep mentioning that name. His Eminence. Is he some sort of ruler or Lord? How did you become apprenticed to him?"

He frowned. "It's kind of complicated. Can we talk about it in the morning? You look tired."

Again, she hesitated, this time because she sensed he was hiding something. But she really didn't have any right to demand answers to her questions if she wasn't prepared to answer his. Even if it irritated her.

She managed a smile. "I am am tired and I tired and I do do need to sleep. But can I have something to eat first?" need to sleep. But can I have something to eat first?"

Thom stood up at once, unfolding his angular frame. "We'll go down to the kitchen. Then I'll take something out to your friends. I still think it's funny that you are traveling with G'home Gnomes."

She couldn't argue with that. But there was much about her life that she found odd of late, so the Gnomes in particular didn't stand out. She stood up with him. "Would you like me to tell you something about those Gnomes?" she asked him.

He nodded eagerly. "I would, indeed."

Together they went off to find the kitchen.

HIS EMINENCE.

The trouble with being raised a Princess of Landover is that it makes it very hard to settle for anything less. Sterling Silver, for example, was more than her home; it was her caregiver. A sentient being, it knew instinctively what she needed and provided it for her. A bed that was just right for her size and shape, suitably warmed each night, floors that were heated to order, food prepared and delivered, air that was sweet smelling and always fresh, a channeling of sounds that were pleasing and comforting, clothes to wear, and beautiful things with which to decorate her rooms-these were just a few of the comforts she had been provided, always without her asking. The castle was magical and capable of magical acts, and it had looked after the Kings of Landover and their families since its inception.

Nor was her transition from the castle to the Carrington Women's Preparatory School particularly difficult. She was no longer able to rely on the buildings for special service and care, but if she wanted clean clothes to wear and fresh sheets to sleep on and good food to eat, there were people who could provide them all. And there were a plethora of advantages that even Landover lacked. Her father's world was technologically advanced, so there were movies and televisions and radios and cell phones and computers and vast numbers of retail stores and malls to enjoy. There were airplanes and automobiles and trains and buses for transportation. There were cities that were vast in size and filled with exciting places, some of them actually educational. All in all, it was a fair trade-off for what she was leaving behind in Landover, and she had found it an exhilarating experience (when she allowed herself to do so).

There was nothing at all exhilarating about Libiris. In addition to being dark and dank and cold, it felt like a tomb for the dead. The air was stale and smelled of decay. Her room was a smaller version of the larger structure-close, cold, and dead feeling. Her bed was miserable and her pillow, a rock. She found no clean clothes to wear, no water to drink or bathe in, no toilet facilities of any sort, and no windows to let in fresh air. The silence of her surroundings was like a great weight pressing down on her. Now and then, she would hear a small noise from somewhere far away, but she could never identify it and be rea.s.sured that it meant the presence of other living creatures.

She made it through the night, surviving an uneasy sleep, still dressed in the clothes she had worn coming in. She woke to blackness, but when she arose from the bed a tiny light flickered on over the door. More magic, she noted. She found the door unlocked and walked out into the hall. Tiny lights flickered on up and down its length. She wondered where Thom might be sleeping, suddenly anxious for his company. But there was no way of knowing how to find him. She walked the hall from end to end, stopping at each door and listening to the silence beyond as if it might reveal some secret. She did not venture beyond the hall once it turned down other corridors, afraid she would become lost in what appeared to be something of a labyrinth.

Finally, she returned to her room and sat down on her bed to wait. Idly, she began sorting through the few possessions she had brought, laying them out on the bed for study. At the bottom of her duffel, beneath the few items of clothing, she found the compa.s.s, the virtual map ring, and the book on wizard spells that Questor had given her. Below all that was the fairy stone she had brought as a present for her grandfather and had failed to give to him. She had carried it all that way and forgotten she had it. She held it in the palm of her hand, feeling immeasurably sad. She found herself thinking about all the things she had taken for granted in her life before this, the way you do when you are feeling sorry for yourself and wondering what has brought you to your present state. But thinking of it didn't make her feel any better, so she shoved such thoughts out of her mind and began concentrating instead on what it was she intended to do with herself now that she was here.

The irony of her situation did not escape her. She had fled from Sterling Silver for the express purpose of not being forced to come to Libiris as her father's envoy, and yet here she was anyway. She could argue all she wanted to that it was a matter of circ.u.mstances; that she had come here not because her father wanted her to but because it was her own choice, a choice made out of necessity and one that she could revoke at a moment's notice. She could rationalize that her presence was mostly due to Edgewood Dirk-wherever he was-who had talked her into coming, persuading her it was the only place in which her father would not think to look for her.

But it was all words, and none of them mattered more than the fact of her being here in a place she did not really want to be.

She stewed about it for a while, and then finally there was a knock on the door, and when she called back it opened and Thom stepped inside.

"Good morning," he greeted cheerfully. "Are you all right?"

She brushed back her hair and gave him a short nod, unwilling to admit that she hurt everywhere and hated everything. "Is there somewhere I can wash?" she asked instead.

He took her down the hall to one of the doors she had pa.s.sed earlier and opened it for her. Inside, there were counters with basins and pitchers of water. On the wall hung towels. None of it looked too clean or too new.

"You can use these," he told her. He looked vaguely embarra.s.sed. "I'll stay outside until you're done. So that no one disturbs you."

When he was gone, she stripped off her clothes and began was.h.i.+ng herself as best she could, thinking all the while how much better things would be if she were back in Sterling Silver. Halfway through, it occurred to her that she could make it better simply by using a little of her magic. A shower with hot water, a soft towel instead of a harsh rag, and a little warmth in the floors would make things almost bearable. She nearly gave in to the temptation. But using magic would risk revealing her location to her father and mother. More than that, it would indicate a certain weakness of character. If she used magic to lessen her hards.h.i.+p, she was admitting that she wasn't tough enough to deal with things the way they were. She hated the idea that she wasn't strong enough to endure a little discomfort. She thought herself better than that, and she wasn't about to do anything that would prove her thinking wrong.

So she suffered through the coldwater splash and the freezing air and the rank smells and the rough surface of the towel, and she was pretty much finis.h.i.+ng up when a panel in the wall opened and a handful of rangy monkeys appeared. At least, that was what they appeared to be as they crowded into the room, all but tumbling over one another as they pushed clear of the opening. When they caught sight of her, naked save for the towel she was desperately trying to wrap about herself, they straightened up as if electrified and hissed like snakes. She screamed in response-more from embarra.s.sment than fear-yelling at them to get out.

The door to the room flew open and Thom charged in, caught sight of Mistaya, made a vague attempt at s.h.i.+elding his eyes, and then quickly placed himself between the monkeys and her, shouting loudly at the former until they all piled back through the hole in the wall and slammed the panel shut behind them.

"Sorry about that," he muttered, keeping his back turned and his eyes averted. "Those are some of the Throg Monkeys. They aren't supposed to be in this part of the building, but they seem to go wherever they want these days. Even His Eminence can't keep them in line. Guess they've been using this washroom for themselves."

"Can you just keep looking over there until I'm dressed?" Mistaya asked rather pointedly.

"Oh, certainly, of course," he agreed at once. "I wouldn't have come in at all if I hadn't heard you scream, but then I ... Well, I didn't know what ... It could have been anything, after all ... Really, I didn't see anything ... much."

He trailed off awkwardly, apparently unable to find any good way to end the conversation. She left things hanging there while she quickly finished drying and dressing in her old clothes, promising herself a change as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

"What sort of creatures are those Throg Monkeys?" she asked finally. "Trolls or kobolds or what?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't even know where they came from. His Eminence found them and brought them here to do the heavy work in the Stacks. Which was a waste of effort, it turns out. They don't do very much work at all. They wouldn't do any except that I found a way to make them. They seem to think that work is beneath them. Mostly, they just sit around looking bored."

"Except when they're poking their noses in where they don't belong."

"Except for that." He hesitated. "Did they frighten you?"

"They came through the walls rather suddenly. So, yes, they frightened me. But they won't get a chance to do that again, I can promise you."

She finished tying the stays to her blouse and cinched her belt. "Throg Monkeys, huh. I thought I knew every species of creature in Landover, but I never heard of them."

"I thought the same thing," he agreed. "Can I turn around now?"

"You can." She waited until he was facing her. "There, you see? No damage done. But I am hungry."

He took her back outside and down the hall to the kitchen where he had fed her the night before. The kitchen had been empty then, and it was empty now. She couldn't quite figure out who did the cooking or when they did it, but there was a pot of something bubbling on the stove. Thom ladled them up two bowls of something that might have been thin stew or simply gruel, added hunks of bread, and pumped two cups of water from a sink. They sat at the same table, a small wooden block with benches, and consumed their meal. It did not look appetizing at the outset and did not improve with the tasting. Mistaya ate hers anyway, concentrating on the bread. She needed something in her stomach.

"Now that you're here," he asked her after the meal was nearly consumed, "how long do you intend to stay?"

She thought about it a moment. "How long do you think I will be allowed to stay?"

He shrugged. "Depends. If you want to continue to pretend to be my sister, you can stay as long as you like. Otherwise, I think you better make plans to leave after breakfast."

She stared at him in disbelief. "That's rather abrupt, isn't it?"