A Princess Of Landover Part 13

She stared at him in disbelief, started to say something, then stopped. He was already getting to his feet, picking up his plate, and carrying it to the basin to wash. She was furious, but would not give him the satisfaction of finding that out. Two could play this game. She was already thinking about what she would tell him tomorrow that would shock him even more.

He gave her a cheerful wave as he walked out the door, and she smiled back sweetly.

When she rose the following morning, she was pleased to discover that the washroom was no longer plagued by the threat of uninvited Throg Monkeys. Thom had nailed heavy wooden boards over the panel through which the troublesome little monsters had appeared yesterday, and it looked as if they were shut out for good. Nevertheless, she kept close watch as she washed and dressed herself, a good-sized wooden staff close at hand for head-bashing should the need arise.

Afterward, she did not go directly into the kitchen for her breakfast, but down the hall and through several connected pa.s.sageways to a small, well-sealed door that opened into a mucky courtyard and stables beyond. She saw Shoopdiesel right away, sitting on a bench next to a woodpile, hunched over and picking pieces of straw and clumps of dirt out of his clothing. He looked as if he might have volunteered for duty as a scarecrow in a windstorm, but she was certain that the explanation was far more complicated.

"Princess!" Poggwydd exclaimed loudly, as he came around the corner of the shed leading a small donkey.

"Not so loud, please!" she hissed, motioning him to quiet down. "And don't call me that! It's Ellice!"

His grubby hands flew to his mouth in horror at the obviousness of his mistake, and he hurriedly nodded his understanding. "Sorry, so sorry," he offered in a hushed voice.

She walked over to him, stopping to take a look at Shoopdiesel, who appeared not just to be coated with straw and dirt but impaled. Moreover, he was the recipient of multiple bruises and cuts. "What happened to him?" she asked Poggwydd.

"Oh." Poggwydd looked embarra.s.sed. "It's a rather long story, Princess ... I mean, Ellice. Rather long and boring. Perhaps it would be better to tell it another time ... ?"

"I have time now. What have you two been up to?" She glanced at the animal he was leading. "And what are you doing with that donkey?"

Poggwydd looked all around, as if afraid someone would hear. Shoopdiesel had given up plucking out hunks of straw and earth and was limping as un.o.btrusively as possible toward the interior of the shed.

"Shoopdiesel, you come back here!" she snapped at him. "Whatever's going on, you're obviously involved!"

"It's really nothing you need to bother yourself with," Poggwydd insisted in something like a whine.

Mistaya shook her head. "Stop wasting my time, Poggwydd. Just tell me what you and your piggy little friend are doing."

Poggwydd seemed to consider the advisability of doing so for a moment and apparently the scales tipped in her favor. "Foraging," he admitted.

She shook her head, despairing that there was any hope for these two. "I thought as much. What did I tell you about that?"

"But, Princess!"

"Don't call me that! Just tell me why you are back to stealing other people's animals!"

"But we're not stealing." Poggwydd managed to look put upon. "Consider our situation. We have been living out here in the stables since we arrived. It's very nice out here, too. Lots of soft earth for burrowing, lots of soft straw for sleeping, and a great many rats for eating. Do you know, Princess, that the stable hands actually want want us to eat the rats? They encourage it! So we did just exactly as we were told." us to eat the rats? They encourage it! So we did just exactly as we were told."

He gave a prodigious sigh. "But we have been eating rats constantly since our arrival, and we thought that perhaps we should eat something else. A varied diet is important, you know. A varied diet keeps you healthy of body and mind, Princess."

He saw the look that crossed her face and hurried on. "Well, being of a curious nature, naturally we decided to look around. And what did we find but all sorts of strays that no one has any claim to! We could take our pick! But, admittedly, we got a little carried away. Well, Shoopdiesel did, anyway. He's always been a little too ambitious for his own good. He shouldn't have tried to capture something that big, even if it was just standing out there, waiting for someone to come along and take it away. He should have known better."

"A horse?" she guessed.

"A bull. A rather large, unpleasant bull with big horns and a keen dislike for G'home Gnomes. He threw Shoopdiesel twenty feet in the air and then tried to trample him. Poor Shoop only barely escaped with his life!"

As if on cue, Shoopdiesel began to whimper softly. Mistaya rolled her eyes. "And you, in your wisdom, Poggwydd, have settled on this donkey? Is that right?" she pressed.

He nodded wordlessly, dropping his gaze. "It was just wandering around. No owner was in sight."

"You know, just because you don't see an owner doesn't mean there isn't one," she pointed out. "For instance, if an ear is tagged with a metal clip, like this one?" She reached out and fingered the tag attached to the donkey's ear. "That might suggest that you have overstepped your bounds once again."

"Oh," he said, trying to look abashed. "I didn't see that."

Maybe he hadn't, but maybe he had, too. Who knew? She couldn't be sure with these two. What she did know was that they were becoming increasingly annoying and were going to get into some sort of trouble sooner or later that would call attention to them and therefore to her. She couldn't allow that to happen. Maybe it was time to send them back home.

"You've both been of great help to me," she declared, bestowing on each in turn her most persuasive smile. "I wouldn't have gotten to Libiris without you. But now that I'm here and staying for a while, there's really no need for you to worry further about me. You're probably anxious to get back to your own homes and lives."

The G'home Gnomes exchanged a hurried glance. "Oh, no, Princess," Poggwydd said at once. "We want to stay with you. You still might have need of us. Might'nt she, Shoop?"

Shoopdiesel nodded vigorously.

"If we leave, what will you do for friends if you find yourself in trouble again? That cat can't be trusted. I bet you haven't even seen him since we arrived."

There was no arguing with that. She sighed, resigned to the inevitable. "All right. You can stay a few days longer. But pay attention to me. If you do one more thing that causes trouble, you'll have to leave immediately. I mean it. I'm trying to stay in hiding here, and you don't help matters by doing things that are likely to anger our hosts. So there will be no more foraging. Stick with eating rats, if you must."

The image was nauseating, but then she wasn't a G'home Gnome, either. "Can't you eat gra.s.s or something?"

Poggwydd frowned. "G'home Gnomes don't eat gra.s.s, Princess."

"That's an example, Poggwydd! I'm just telling you not to eat anything you haven't been given permission to eat. Are we clear?"

Both Gnomes nodded forlornly, their wizened faces crestfallen and their shoulders slumped. They couldn't help being what they were, she knew. They couldn't be something else; they didn't know how. Given all the time in the world, she probably couldn't teach them.

"I have to go eat my own breakfast," she muttered in disgust, turning away.

Beset by images of rats being gnawed on by Gnomes, she discovered that she really wasn't very hungry anymore. Nevertheless, she managed to eat a little bread and cheese and drink some milk before going off to work in the Stacks. By the time she arrived, Thom was already there, sitting cross legged on the floor as he sorted through the latest batch of books the recalcitrant Throg Monkeys had stacked next to him. He gave her a cheerful greeting, and she was relieved when he didn't say anything about the fact that she was late. Putting thoughts of the G'home Gnomes behind her, she settled down to the job at hand and in no time at all was deeply enmeshed in cataloging and cleaning.

The morning pa.s.sed quickly, helped along by her concentration on her work. Very little conversation pa.s.sed between Thom and herself, and when he did speak it was only to ask her if she had slept well, if she had eaten and if she needed anything. She wanted him to say more, was eager to talk with him, but his seeming reluctance left her unwilling to push the matter. She had to content herself with watching the furtive movements of the Throg Monkeys as they slithered through the stacks like wraiths, crouched over and slit-eyed, their purpose and destination unknowable. She might have been frightened of them before, but by now she had grown used to them and found herself mostly irritated that they insisted on lurking rather than helping.

She was aware, too, of Rufus Pinch peering out at her from various hiding places, a spy without spy skills. It didn't seem to bother Thom, who appeared unaware of the wizened face and furtive movements of the little man. Thom just worked along as if nothing unusual was happening, humming to himself, sparing Mistaya an occasional look, but saying nothing. She found herself increasingly irritated with him, too. She wanted him to acknowledge what was going on instead of acting as if he were oblivious. But Thom never once said a word or even gave her one of those conspiratorial looks that he had shared with her yesterday.

Then, just when her patience was nearly exhausted, he leaned forward suddenly and whispered, "Had enough, little sister? Let's go somewhere they can't spy on us."

He took her to the kitchen to gather up bread, meat, cheese, and cups of cold well water for their lunch, then walked her out again and down a hallway to a huge old stone stairway that climbed into gloom and a flutter of bat wings.

"Up there?" she asked doubtfully.

He laughed. "Don't worry. It's safe enough once we're at the top. And we can lock the door when we get there."

She followed him up, ascending the tower steps in steady progression, counting until she lost interest. Slits cut into the walls allowed for just enough light to find the way but not enough to chase the gloom. The bats clung to the walls here and there in shadowy communities, but she couldn't quite decide how they got in since the slits seemed too narrow. It wasn't until she neared the top and the light brightened that she saw barred window openings in the upper reaches of the tower flanking a heavy ironbound door that sat at the apex of the stairs.

Thom reached the door, lifted the latch, and pushed. The door opened with a creaking of metal fastenings, and sunlight poured through in a bright gray wash.

Once through the opening, they were outside the castle, elevated on a battlement that gave a 360-degree view of the countryside beyond. Mistaya could see for miles, even though the day was hazy and the lake country mists snaked through the forests to coil in pools in the vales and deeps. She could see the dark flanks of the mountains south and west, and father north the deep emerald of the Greensward.

She even thought she caught a momentary glimpse of Sterling Silver's bright gleam through the drifting haze.

"What do you think?" Thom asked her, and she gave him a broad grin.

They sat facing each other on a bench at the edge of the battlement, their food and drink settled between them, the sweep of the countryside visible through notches in the ancient stone. It seemed to Mistaya that the battlement had been constructed not so much for defensive as for architectural purposes, and she didn't think it was ever intended for Libiris to be defended against an attacker.

"There really is a throw latch on the door," Thom advised with a wink, "and I threw it. Rufus will have to find something else to do with himself until lunch is over."

"Why is he spying on us, anyway?" she wanted to know.

Thom shrugged. "Hard to say. I'm sure he has his reasons. It's not just you. He watches me, too. Not all the time, but now and then. I think he does it to feel like he's in control of things. Nominally, he's in charge of my work. Practically, he doesn't have any idea at all how I go about it. The Throg Monkeys don't listen to him, either."

"The Throg Monkeys are just plain creepy. I wish we had some other help we could call on."

"I wish that, too. I wish we could do more to put the library back to where it once was. Have you bothered to look at those books you're cataloging? Some of them are wonderful, filled with useful information and strange stories. I love looking at them."

"I would love it better if Pinch wasn't watching all the time." She gave him a look. "I guess I haven't paid much attention to what's in the books. If they're so useful, why isn't anyone reading them?"

He shrugged anew. "People haven't come here in decades. Not since before you and I were born. Most don't even know about the library. As a matter of fact, most don't even read. They've forgotten how or don't take the time. They have all they can do to keep food on the table. Life isn't easy for most living here in Landover. They have to work very hard."

She frowned, aware that she hadn't given the matter much thought. "I suppose that's true."

He didn't say anything more for a moment, munching solemnly on his food as he looked out across the countryside. "When I come up here, I like to pretend that all the lands, for as far as I can see, belong to me, and I can do whatever I want with them."

She laughed. "What would you do, if you had the chance?"

"Oh, that's easy. I'd give them away."

"Give them away? To whom?"

To all those people we've been talking about. Most Landoverians living in the Greensward have to work for the Lords because the Lords hold t.i.tle to all the land. Half of what they farm or earn or forage belongs to their masters. They owe allegiance in case of war. They owe fealty oaths of all sorts. They really don't have anything that they can call their own. I'd give them the land."

She nodded, thinking. "Hasn't the King thought of this? I heard he made a lot of changes in the old feudal system."

"He did. More than any King before him. He's done a lot of good. But he can only do so much. If he tried to take the land away from the Lords of the Greensward, there would be a war. Only the Lords can give away their own land."

"But doesn't the King own this land?" she pressed, gesturing at their immediate surroundings. "Isn't Libiris his?"

"Libiris is his, but the land isn't. As a matter of fact, t.i.tle to this particular piece of land is held jointly by the Lords and the River Master. It took years for them to agree on using even this small piece to build Libiris. I don't think they've ever agreed on anything since."

"Maybe they could be persuaded to do more," she said.

He laughed. "Why don't you be the one to persuade them, then? A girl who talked with the dragon Strabo and lived to tell about it should be able to deal with mere mortals!"

"Maybe the King could do something," she suggested impulsively.

He gave her a look. "You know, I was once inside the castle and saw the King."

She felt her throat tighten. "How did that happen?"

"I was with a group of boys carrying baggage for one of the Lords. So I was allowed inside for a bit, and I saw the King and his Queen. I even saw their little girl."

She nodded slowly, measuring his look. "How long ago was this?"

"Quite a while. I don't remember a lot about it. I was just a boy. The little girl was just a child. She would be older now. Your age, maybe." He grinned. "But she wouldn't be nearly so interesting or pretty as you are, I bet."

She was suddenly anxious to change the topic of conversation. "Tell me the rest of how you ended up being sent here as an indentured servant."

He finished the last of his bread and meat and washed it down with several swallows of water. "As I recall, the bargain was that you were supposed to tell me something interesting about yourself first. Something other than that story about you and the dragon."

"That wasn't a bargain I made. That was your condition for finishing the story-a very unfair condition, I might add."

He thought about it. "All right, maybe it was. If I finish the story, will you tell me something else about yourself afterward?"

She stuck out her hands. "Let's shake on it."

They shook, his hands strong and firm as they grasped hers. She liked the feel of them-not too rough, but they had seen hard work.

"Well, then?" she asked, withdrawing her hands from his.

"There's not much more to tell," he said. "My father sold me into indenture to His Eminence because he felt I might find a better future here than if I stayed with him. There wasn't much work in the village and no one to teach me a useful trade. Or at least not a trade that interested me. He thought that coming here, working with books I could read and studying on my own when I wasn't working, might better serve me."

"Well, couldn't he have sent you to study with His Eminence instead of indenturing you for five years? It would have been the same thing!"

Thom shook his head. "His Eminence wouldn't allow it. No one gets to come to Libiris and stay without a reason. His bargain with my father was that if I came, it was as an indentured servant. That was the condition to my apprenticeship. When I am done working, I owe His Eminence half of my first five years' earnings in my chosen trade, as well."

"That's unfair!" Mistaya was indignant. "He can't do that!"

Thom laughed. "Tell you what. When you talk to the King about persuading the Lords to give up their lands to the poor people, put in a good word for me, too."

"Maybe I will," she declared boldly.

He leaned over and brushed her hair back from her face in a curiously tender gesture. "You have a good heart, little sister. Whoever you are and wherever you came from, you have a good heart."

She didn't know what to say. "I think you have a good heart, too," she managed.

There was a moment when their eyes locked and time seemed to freeze. She waited, her antic.i.p.ation of what might happen next so sharp it made her ache.

Then abruptly he stood up. "Come along. Back to work. Rufus will grow bored if we're not there to be spied upon."

She certainly wouldn't want that, she thought. She felt a pang of disappointment that their time alone together was over. She wanted more. She determined that she would have it.

Picking up their plates and cups, she followed him back through the tower door and down the stairs to work.

It was late in the afternoon, the time nearly run out on their day's efforts, when Mistaya heard someone calling. The voice was so faint and so distant that at first she thought she was mistaken. She stopped what she was doing and listened for a long few moments without hearing anything more. Her imagination, she supposed. A place this cavernous could play tricks on you, deceive you into hearing and seeing things that weren't there.

She had risen to begin sorting through a new stack of books when she heard it again. She stood listening anew, staring off into s.p.a.ce and trying to pinpoint the location. She thought it had come from somewhere back in the Stacks, where the darkness was so thick and deep that it was virtually impenetrable. But there was only silence.