The Princess in the Tower 2

 

 

Part I

 

Chapter One: The Decree

Once upon a time, as all stories begin, in the remote land of Sinthane, there lived a mighty King and his family. This King was a good one, and understood the importance of magic. However, he also understood the terror it was wreaking upon his beloved country. Penny-curses were bought and used frequently, neighbor to neighbor, charms forgotten and practiced only by the beautiful Sorceresses who dwelt in the far reaches of the Kingdom. Because of this, he decreed that no one should practice magic without license.

Many were grateful to their king for making this proclamation. Others were bitter. Some were just indifferent, not minding whether magic was available to the public or not. Wizards, sorcerers and Sorceresses, even witches, when they had Right of Entrance (seven years of Good Conduct earned them Right of Entrance to Any Building in Sinthane) applied for licenses. Of the Magicians, there were fewer.

Our story concerns one particular Magician by the name of Vancerile. Vancerile was a great seller of penny-curses and sleep- and- poison- potions before the decree, now he moped rather frequently about the loss of his license. "Why don’t you apply for a license, then?" friends asked. Vancerile mumbled something about "mother said . . ." and fervently hoped that his so-called friends would not discover his "shady" past.

His wife, Albuterol, was the one who thought of the Idea first.

Before I explain the Idea, I shall tell you just a little about Albuterol. She was short and rather plump—those who did not like her called her downright fat—with greasy mouse-brown hair that could by no means be called beautiful. She had a rather commanding personality, controlling her weak-tempered husband completely. When she was quite young, her father had sold her off to farmer, who in turn sold her off to a witch for apprenticeship and never returned for her. The witch—one without Right of Entrance, I may add—taught her basic curses and hexes, and a few evil potions to boot. All in all, Albuterol was not a very nice person.

Now: the Idea. Albuterol thought of it first: the perfect plan. "Who cares if the King made a silly decree?" she asked Vancerile airily. "It doesn’t mean you have to follow it."

Vancerile smiled a nasty, menacing smile. "Good idea," he purred. "Who says I have to follow my King? Who says I have to obey the Big Boss?"

"No one," finished Albuterol. "No one at all. So, all you have to do is enchant the king—a simple Memory Hex should do it, you know—and voila! He knows nothing."

"I can do anything I want!" Vancerile said gleefully. "Aha! I’ve got you now, King Richard!"

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Vancerile was ignorant on this point. The King’s name was Reagan. The Queen’s was Victoria.

"Vanny, calm down" said Albuterol soothingly. "It will all be worked out in good time. But in the mean time, start working!"

Vancerile scurried into his Casting Chamber, where he readied himself for the curse he was about to perform. Vancerile was very good at his art, if at nothing else. Albuterol, satisfied at last, sat down to wait for him.

§

All was quiet in the King’s palace. Hester, the head cook slept soundly on a pile of potato skins, her snores echoing through the still kitchen. Rebecca, an odd-job sort of maid, tiptoed past her on her way to her pallet in the servant’s quarters. She fervently wished that she were at home, creeping past her sleeping mother. Tonight felt . . . different, somehow, than other nights did. Eerie, almost, in the silence. Everyone was sleeping, everyone but Rebecca and Ann, Hester’s apprentice. Ann was on her own pallet, waiting for Rebecca to come in and say good night. Ann was a very small girl, no more than five. 5She had a mother somewhere, but no one knew of her. The story went that Hester had found a baby in a basket on the doorstep one summer night, with a note reading:

Please take care of my baby. Her name is Ann. She is two years old, now. She may be your servant--but please, teach her well and love her, love her as I, her mother, does! I will come back for her, if I may.

Sofi Amson

Sofi Amson had left her baby with Hester three years ago. Rebecca, who was eight at the time of Ann’s arrival, had "taken a liking" to the small, forlorn waif abandoned on Hester’s doorstep as an infant. The two had grown as close as sisters and Rebecca now roomed with her small friend.

Ann was not asleep, as we have before mentioned. She lay awake, waiting for "Becky" to come in. She had something to tell Becky that was very, very important.

Finally Rebecca entered the small room. Ann jumped up, excited. "Guess what?" she said importantly. "I have some news for you."

Rebecca smiled. "Yes?" she asked.

"I was taking some food to Amy," Ann said, "And I saw Sara and Sara said that the Princess was going to have us to spend the day tomorrow, because of your birthdays!"

"Very exciting!" Rebecca said. "I am very excited. I can’t wait for tomorrow. Oh, do say that she will have Sara and Amy, too?"

Ann nodded ponderingly. "Yes," she said, "I s’pose she will."

Well, its bedtime now," Rebecca said. "We’ll talk about it more tomorrow. Good night, Annie."

"Good night, Becky," Ann replied sleepily. "See you in the morning."

There was no further talk among the girls.

§

The sun had set long ago, and Vancerile was still in his Casting chamber. Albuterol had fallen asleep, her loud snores resounding through the small hut. The only movement for miles around was that of the masked figure and his party, threading his way through the trees his destination, of which I shall explain later.

No one spoke in this small band of cloaked, masked men. There was very little intimacy among them at the best of times, and now the need for silence was immediate. Their leader chose to call himself Dark Face. His true identity was known by none of his followers. They lived together in suspicion, with no love lost between them. They stayed banded only to gain plunder, obeying Dark Face’s orders with contempt. Now they were headed for a new master, to begin a new life as minions of a Dark lord.

They never made it. Mask, a member of the small band, stepped on a twig not far from the hut belonging to Albuterol and Vancerile, and the silence (interspersed with snores) from the cottage was broken. A moment later, Albuterol stepped out the door and peered into the darkness. "Who’s there?" she asked suspiciously. "I know someone is out there. I heard you. You can’t hide."

Dark Face thought for a moment, then stepped boldly out. "It is I," he said, his voice muted by the mask he wore. "I am Dark Face, leader of the Masked Soldiers. Here is Mask, Blackcoat, Evilgrin, and Poisoner. We are journeying to our lord Shangle."

Albuterol shivered at the mention of Shangle. Dark Face smiled, satisfied.

Vancerile now appeared on the scene. "What do you want?" he asked timidly, looking terrified of the masked man standing before him. "Who are you?"

"This is Mr. Dark Face," Albuterol said, hiding her fear in a cordial tone. "He—he is traveling to lord Shangle."

Vancerile set his lips in a grim smile, remembering young Shangle at the School of Magic where he, Vancerile, had gone in his own childhood years. Yet, even with the smile his face was pallid and his fear was evident. This was going better than Dark Face had planned. The captain fingered his sword, waiting for his moment. He was shocked at Vancerile’s next comment.

"Why don’t you bide here, instead?" the latter said calmly. "We—I—could use some minions."

Dark Face shook his head. "We do not stay with weaklings," he said with light contempt. "Lord Shangle has accomplished many evil doings, and the world knows of him. I have never heard of you before, sir."

"Aha," said Vancerile. "That is where you come in wrong. Soon, all the earth will know me and cower under my grip!"

Dark Face was unimpressed. "This changes things little," he said. "Tell me what you plan to do, and I may decide to join you."

Vancerile explained his plan to enchant King Reagan. Dark Face began to show signs of approval. "Yes," he said, "I shall join you for just a little. You will need more than a wife to pull of a feat of this magnitude."

Albuterol shot Dark Face an icy look, but allowed the five men to enter her home. Dark Face promptly sat down in Albuterol’s own chair, motioning for his men to make themselves comfortable. Albuterol—in a huff—left the room. Vancerile conferred with Dark Face in secretive whispers about the spell he was casting. After a time, the two got up and went into Vancerile’s Casting chamber to look at what must be done.

§

Albuterol was mad. Very mad, in fact. Extremely mad! Dark Face had thought her, the power behind her husband’s marvels, a simple kitchen drudge of a wife. Resolutely she left the bedroom and re-entered the room where Mask, Poisoner, Evilgrin, and Blackcoat sat, boredom evident in their manner.

"Vot is vrong?" Evilgrin asked in a muffled, accented voice. "Vhere is Dark Face? Vhy vould Vancereyal send his vife to sit vith us? You are not fit to breathe in ze air zat a Masked Zoljer breathes out. Avay vith you, lady."

Albuterol let her breath out in an irritated huff. She drew herself up haughtily and said, "You, sir, are not fit to keep a sojourn in this home. I thank you to get yourself out right now."

Evilgrin was silent for a minute, and the silence was of bewilderment. "Yes, Miz Beauty-rol," he said finally. "Ve need not leave, need ve? Ve shall acknowleyedge your authority, Miz Beauty-rol, from now on. Ve are yours to command, are ve not, boys?"

Mask spoke for them all. "Yisss," he said in a soft, sibilant tone. "We will be all to happy to ssserve you, Misss Al-beauty-rol. Your wish isss our command."

Albuterol shivered inwardly, Mask’s voice reminding her of snakes, a creature which she both despised and feared greatly—but she could not let these Masked Soldiers, as they called themselves, frighten her after she had asserted her authority so recently.

"Yes," she said bravely, looking down her nose at them. "You shall obey me in every thing, as shall your leader, Mask Nose or such—it doesn’t really matter—that he must do the same. Let’s see . . . Poisoner, that shall be your job for the present. I believe in men working for board and food. Mask . . . you should help Vanny in whatever he needs—yes Mask, like a personal servant. Blackcoat will . . . do odd jobs and Evilgrin shall be my personal help. You are dismissed."

Under his mask Poisoner’s face was red with fury, but he did not question his new Mistress’s judgement. As his three companions were happy with their new roles he could no more oppose her than he could kiss a snake. He, too, disliked Mask for his sibilant whispering voice, reminding him of his mortal enemy. To him, Poisoner, Mask was his mortal enemy, as he had taken upon himself a serpent for his "emblem." But he would put an end to this drudgery when the time was ripe.

Blackcoat was happy—as happy as evil ever has been or ever will be, for it in itself is not truly possible—as a servant, of sorts. Indeed, his lack of intelligence could not possibly keep him back in this way—what was there, really, to do when an odd-job-man?

Evilgrin was pleased that his Mistress has chosen him for the honor of accompanying her everywhere—very pleased, in fact, for this gave him ample opportunity to . . . put her to rest, as he gingerly put it.

Mask was not happy at all with his assignment. To think that he, Mask, would stoop so low as to be another man’s personal servant! True, he had gone with Dark Face for all these years, but this was only because he was watching for a chance to silence the captain and gain command of the small band of mercenaries. Now he waited for a chance to rid himself of Albuterol, Vancerile, and Dark Face, to gain command, for he knew the others—Poisoner especially—feared and despised him. Now he imagined himself taking over Vancerile’s scheme—a mental image showed him sitting on the golden throne of the King, wielding the great scepter and commanding subjects far and wide.

So it came about that all the companions—except Blackcoat—had taken upon themselves to end their own slavery at the end of Albuterol’s chain.

 

Chapter Two: A Birthday Party and a Curse

Meagan sat at the window, watching the sunrise behind the Sinthanian Mountains. She had not been able to sleep much the night before, odd in the Princess, who normally slept still, sound, and long. She wished that Becca was there, but knew it would be cruel to wake the maid so early. She and Becca had a special friendship, the two of them being the only eleven-year-olds in the castle.

In fact, they were both eleven—both exactly eleven, as today was their birthday. It was very odd that Meagan and Becca should have the same birthday, but they did. Meagan planned to invite Becca, Ann, Amy, Sara, and all the other young maids for a birthday party that day. They would make their own delicacies, for Meagan did not want to cause more trouble for Hester and the other grown-up servants. Now, thinking of her party, she wandered over to the great oak wardrobe that stood tall and stately in one corner of the room and threw open it’s doors wide.

A startlingly beautiful array of dresses was suddenly visible, and Meagan smiled in delight as she always did. She did love beautiful clothes, although it made her sad to think that Becca and the others had none. She would have to try and do something about that sometime. She wondered, now, which to wear today. Then she had an idea: she could let each of her guests pick a dress to wear, and to keep if Papa would let her. True, Ann and Sara were younger, but she had some dresses slightly to small that would probably fit.

Let’s see, she thought to herself, what shall I wear today? She finally chose the pale green dress. It wasn’t a frilly dress, but then the Princess didn’t like really frilly dresses, and she loved this one. She picked out the green parasol, too, and "thanked her lucky stars" (as Hester would say) that she had a lot of parasols.

§

Time could not go fast enough for Meagan that day. She paced her bedchamber until breakfast, and then in turn paced the breakfast hall while Papa told her that ten’o’clock would come soon, now. When she was done breakfasting, she rushed down the marble staircase to the servant’s quarters. On her way to the kitchen, she met Sara. Sara was a six, a pretty little thing with golden hair and big brown eyes. Sara was a cleaning maid of sorts, she dusted all she could reach and swept the floors and shined the lower windows. Her mother was Nannette, the cleaning maid who cleaned the palace top to bottom every other Friday. Sara did not talk much, being a timid little child, but she liked the Princess as much as she knew her.

The two of them now went to Amy, the poorest of all. Amy’s Aunt Ermie was wife to Haroldson, the castle gamekeeper, and Ermie believed in perfection according to rank. Amy was not really a servant; more of a live-in-the-palace-noblewoman’s daughter, and Sara and Ann were instructed to take her meals to her. Amy visited the Princess very often, wishing to please her strict Aunt. Aunt Ermie was not happy when Amy spent most of her time with Becca, Sara, and Ann.

Amy was waiting, as impatiently as the Princess herself, for the "fun" to begin. Amy was older than Sara and Ann, yet younger than the Meagan and Becca. She was a vivacious little nine-year-old with red hair and sparkling green eyes. She was dressed in an unattractive dark plaid frock, however, for Aunt Ermie believed in frugality even in gentlepeople’s wardrobes.

Sarah led Meagan and Amy down to the kitchen, where the other girls were waiting. Ann’s pale, pinched face lit up at the sight of Meagan, and she whispered something to Becca excitedly. Becca nodded her head and made as if to follow Meagan to her chamber.

The small procession finally found its way back into the Princess’s chambers, where each girl was allowed to pick out a new dress and parasol, for they were to go on a walk later that afternoon. Ann chose a violently red dress with many blue bows and a navy-blue parasol; Sara a banana-yellow ballgown style with a yellow bonnet and a white parasol. Amy immediately chose a navy-blue with lace every place which lace could possibly be crammed (when offered a parasol, she chose the white lace), and Becca a pale pink gauzy frock that seemed to float about her feet when she walked, and a pale pink parasol.

They talked and played the morning away, and when it was luncheon time, they took it in Meagan’s small sitting room. No five girls could have been happier than Meagan, Becca, Amy, Sara, and Ann at that moment.

After luncheon they went for a walk and met the King in the Royal Gardens. Meagan ran joyfully up to her father, yet the others stayed a ways away, just a little bit fearful. "Come on," Meagan said. "It’s only Papa, you know" and this broke the ice. Soon the all five were clustered around good King Reagan, talking and laughing as if they had all known each other forever. Indeed, Haroldson (the gamekeeper), who was watching, thought them not a handful of servants, his niece, and the Princess, but Chrysanthemum, Daisy, Lilac, and Junelily, the four daughters of the Duke of Spring, with Princess Meagan and King Reagan.

That night Sara and Amy could be seen creeping into the room just off the kitchen where Rebecca and Ann slept, and reliving everything that had come to pass that day piece by piece. It was past midnight when they finally crept back into their respective chambers and settled down for bed.

§

It was nearly midnight. All was dark and silent; an owl hooted in a nearby oak. Dark Face stole out of the small dwelling and into the night, watching his feet where they tread so as to be completely silent. He slipped unobtrusively from shadow to shadow until he reached the cover of the forest again. It was even darker in here, and Dark Face felt a momentary flutter of fear, for there were said to be werewolves and other fearsome beasts in this forest, but he crept through the forest relentlessly until he was nearly through. As the first ray of dawn broke through the darkness Dark Face departed the forest in silence, and in silence greeted the tall man who waited at the edge thereof.

The steam rose up in overwhelming scented waves from the simmering cauldron in the corner. Dark Face and the man who had met him at the edge of the forest sat watching it, in silence. Finally the tall man stirred and turned to Dark Face. In short, clipped tones he asked, "It should be ready by noontime tomorrow. You must go back before then, however, or they will know that you are gone, and the lady will guess what you have done. Go now; come back again this time tomorrow night and I will have the potion prepared. Do not fail me, Dark Face."

Dark Face nodded mutely, feeling the blast of menace which the tall man's last words carried. Standing up, he turned towards the door.

"Wait, Dark Face," said the man. "I do not trust you to leave me and return--you have already shown lack of faith in allying yourself with the coward, Vancerile. However, I will forgive this once…but you shall not go beyond my door without this." The tall man held up a thin iron band carved intricately with many strange figures, and smiled coldly.

Dark Face flinched as he saw the iron band, but went in silence back to the tall man and took it from him. Placing it on his left wrist he nodded once again, and left the room.

§

A red beam shot across the sky. Rebecca watched as it filled the heavens with flaming glory; pulling the shawl tighter about her shoulders to shut out the cold breeze that blew on the balcony. It was a few minutes before she realized someone was behind her. Turning, she saw that it was Matthew, son of Haroldson the gamekeeper.

"Hi," she said, turning back to her sunrise.

"Aw, come on, Becca," Matthew said teasingly, "You've seen enough sunrises already. Cook tells me you get out here every mornin', just to see the sunrise. Pa sent me to get some veggibles for brekkist so I just decided to stop in and see you. You know," he added in mock agony, "You haven't been up to see Pa and me for near on a month now. We can't let that happen, now, can we?"

Rebecca Pea and Matthew Haroldson had been friends for as long as they both could remember--Matthew, three years her senior, had always been like a brother to Rebecca when she was at the castle. At home she had three--Caleb, Jay, and Benjamin--but Matthew had always been the fourth. It was true, what he said; she had not been up to the Haroldson cabin for nearly a month.

"Well, get yourself down and eat your breakfast, Matthew Haroldson," she said sternly. "I'll be down this afternoon…if I can get away," Rebecca added wistfully. "There is a royal banquet coming up, and Hester has been working us pretty hard to get ready. But I'll try, Matt--I will try--you tell your Pa that. Now, scoot!"

Matthew fled from the small balcony and Rebecca turned back to the sky, now a radiant gold with pink-tinged clouds floating in the great mass of yellow.

§

Vikki Pea was thirty years old, but she did not look it. Indeed, she could have passed for the older sister of her daughter any day. She had not one grey hair on her head; her hair was still as rich a brown as it ever had been. She was as agile as her sons as she had been quiet the tomboy when she was a girl. Her sea-green eyes still crackled with electricity when she was angry, and softened with tender emotion when she looked on any of her four children. No--she did not look to be thirty at all.

Just now she was churning butter with great ferocity while berating her second son, Jay, angrily.

"Running off without telling me…not a note on your bed. Didn't you think about what I would assume when I saw your empty bed…Caleb didn't know where you were--Jay didn't know where you were--I didn't know where you were!" She stopped for breath, her eyes crackling at the remembrance. "Did you not think what could have happened to you? Jay, Jay, my son…there are Magicians…wizards…sorcerers…all of them out there, and I'm sure they are all unhappy with the King's latest decision--I am still not quite sure that was wise--and they are all waiting to vent their anger on someone else."

"But Ma--" Jay protested, but Vikki cut him off.

"Don't you 'But Ma' me, son. You did a very bad thing in leaving the house like that this morning."

"But Ma, I was just going to see Rebecca!" Jay said quickly.

"D'you think that makes a difference? Vikki asked savagely. "The castle is three miles away…anything--anything--could have happened to you. Do you understand me? You are not to go wandering off like that again without telling me!" She whacked the paddle against the side of the churn for good measure. "Now, go inside. You can clean last night's dishes. However--" she added menacingly-- "That will just be a start."

Jay stormed off to the kitchen, angry but unable to combat his mother's will. Benjamin was lying on the rush mat in the entryway with his ear pressed against the door. He jumped as Jay opened it, and smiled disarmingly. "Thorry about that, Jay," he said, lisping a bit where he had lost a tooth. "I wath jutht seein' what Ma be going to do to you…tho that when I go thneak off to thee Becca I'll know how and when to do it." Again he smiled sweetly. "I don't wanna get in ath many troubleth ath my big brother."

Jay ignored his little brother's explanations as he trudged to the kitchen.

§

Albuterol woke with a start. She looked around, trying to find the sound that had startled her so, but could not. Vancerile was sleeping soundly beside her, still. Albuterol got carefully up, out of bed, and went to the closed door. She pressed her ear to the cold wood, but could hear nothing out of the ordinary. Something seemed out of place, however. Very carefully she turned the doorknob and stepped silently out of the room. The long hallway was empty as she slipped quietly towards the second bedroom door, where her new minions had been put for the night. The door was closed, and, surprisingly, locked. Thinking to peer through the keyhole she bent low, only to find that the key was in the lock. Low murmurs emitted from the door, so she pressed her ear against it and listened to the conversation.

"He gave you ze Iron Keeper, you say?" the voice seemed to be Evilgrin, though she could not tell whom he was questioning. There was no answer, so Albuterol assumed that there had been a nod Yes or No.

"I cannot believe thisss without ssseeing for myssself," hissed Mask. "I cannot believe that He would have let you back, I mean."

There was a short cough from inside, and then Dark Face spoke. "Yes, He gave me the--the Keeper. He also gave me instructions for dealing with Vancerile and his wife."

"More like his wife and Vancerile," muttered Poisoner.

"Ah, yes," Dark Face replied. "Blackcoat has told me of your new mistress. He also told me what you will do to her…when the time is ripe."

Someone sniggered. "Yesss, will, it isss good that Black Coat isss not with usss, isss it not, Dark Facssse?"

"Yes, very good," Dark Face replied shortly. "However, I have cause to believe that Blackcoat will be waking soon…very soon. So let us close this conversation and sleep, for I am to help Vancerile again with his casting tomorrow."

Albuterol crept quietly back into her own bedroom, having much to think about.

§

Vancerile was once again in his Casting Chamber with Dark Face. Before he had re-entered the room he said to Albuterol, "Today shall be the last day, my dear wife. Then…we shall see what happens to King Richard."

Now the sweat poured down his face as he feverishly put ingredient after necessary ingredient into the great simmering cauldron. "Three Soflenobes, six Fiffle-fuffle halves, two pinches of Sleeping Powder, aha!" he muttered to himself. "Now, Dark Face," he said to his companion, "You may leave. Thank you for your assistance. I shall be out in a few more minutes."

Dark Face obediently left the room, returning to where Albuterol and the four other member of the small band of Masked Soldiers sat, waiting.

Back in the Casting Chamber Vancerile began a slow incantation over the cauldron. Soon a purple haze filled the room, smelling strongly of sulfur. As Vancerile continued intoning the spell the mist came together until it was a gauzy veil-like shape. Immediately as it came together it flew out the window and the sulfurous scent was born with it, and all in the Casting Chamber was back to it's usual state.

Vancerile walked triumphantly out of the Chamber into the parlor where his wife and minions sat. "I have done it," he said simply. "In less than an hour the spell will begin to take effect. If you would all please prepare for the Invasion segment of The Idea then we shall set out tonight."

§

The Princess Meagan of Sinthane was in her sitting room, reading a book of sonnets. Amy sat across the room from her, embroidering a silken coverlet for Aunt Ermie. The two girls had not spoken for quite a while, as Meagan was engrossed in the beautiful verse and Amy was concentrating very hard on each tiny stitch.

Their silence was interrupted by the swift arrival of Elisyn, a sitting-room maid, whom Meagan had excused from work this once. Her white silk cap was askew on her carefully brushed curls and her eyes were wide. "Oh, come here, Miss," she said frantically to the Princess. "It's his Majesty, Miss--he's awful bad."

Meagan stood up, the book of sonnets falling to the floor. "Stay with Amy, Elisyn," she commanded. "I will go see what the matter is." Without another word she flew off down the corridor leading out of the Princess's chambers. Running down the grand staircase, she entered yet another corridor, which in turn opened into the grand Throne Room. "Oh!" she cried, crumpling to her knees in the middle of the floor.

The King sat without recognizing his daughter, staring in blank amazement at the grand furnishings of the great Throne Room.

§

Dark Face took the bottle of clear liquid from the bureau top. The label on the front read

 

Nodding in satisfaction he tucked the tightly corked bottle safely into a pocket in his cloak. Mask stepped up behind him. "Iss thiss the Ssshaclec Poissson?" he asked in a sibilant whisper.

"Yes," Dark Face replied. "I will slip this into his celebratory wine once the castle is conquered, as Lord Shangle instructed."

§

Meagan stood carefully up. "Papa?" she asked timidly. "Papa? It's Meagan."

King Reagan looked sharply around. "Oh, Meagan," he said. "I'm so happy to see you. Why don't you bring your Mama in too? It gets boring in here alone. So many people have problems. Your Mama is a wonderful problem-solver, so bring her in and let her help me solve these poor Sinthanian people's troubles."

Meagan blanched. "But Papa," she said, "Mama isn't--Mama's dead, Papa!" The King shook his head slightly as if to clear his mind.

"Oops, sorry," he said sheepishly. "Sometimes I forget. Ah, the poor lady…so little money…did not the villagers hang her when she attempted to steal a bit of bread for her family?"

The Princess ran to her father. "Papa!" she cried. "Papa, what's happening to you?" The King had begun to babble nonsensical words to himself and did not respond. "Oh, Papa," she whispered, as the great Monarch slumped forward in the great gold throne.

§

There was a sharp knock on the kitchen door. Rebecca, on kitchen duty, opened it. A man stood there--about middle age, Rebecca guessed. His hair was thinning and with touches of grey, and his shoulders slightly stooped as though he spent much of his time leaning over something of one sort or another. His clothes were quite ragged at the edges, and he clutched a small bulging sack. "I would like to see the good King," he said when he saw Rebecca. "I have some business to conduct with him."

Rebecca looked at Hester questioningly, and the cook bustled over to the doorway. Giving the man a critical once-over she shook her head firmly. "No, sir," she said emphatically. "You are not fit to see the King. If you wish to peddle your wares, do it someplace else, for no one here has need of them. Good day to you."

Vancerile, for indeed, it was he, pushed Hester aside impatiently. "I'm sorry to intrude, ma'am," he said. "But I must see the King!"

Hester huffed in annoyance. "I already told you, we have no need of your wares. But if you are this bent on seeing King Reagan than I guess you could seek a quick audience with him. But be warned: we have no need of your wares, whatever they may be. Understood?"

"Yes," Vancerile said. "I understand. Now…?"

"Rebecca, take him to his Majesty, please," said Hester, turning to Rebecca.

"Yes'm," Rebecca answered. "Sir--please follow me."

Rebecca led Vancerile down a shabbily papered hallway. It made an unexpected turn and the two found themselves in the King Reagan's Throne Room. Meagan was kneeling in front of the King. When she saw Rebecca she stood quickly and flew towards her friend. "Oh, Becca," she sobbed. "He's-he's unconscious. I don't know what happened. I-I came in here and h-h-he was talking about Mama and th-then he started acting s-so o-odd and then he just sort of c-c-collapsed, and he's been l-like this ever since."

"Hmm," murmured Vancerile from behind the two girls, causing them to turn around and stare at him. "Wh-who is he?" Meagan asked Rebecca in a whisper.

"He's a peddler who wanted business with your father," Rebecca replied, "But I suppose that he won't get it, now."

"Oh no, dear," Vancerile said evilly, for Rebecca had not cared to whisper. "I see that my business was…fulfilled."

"I'm sorry, sir," Meagan said courteously. "I am not sure that I quite understand what you are saying."

"I'm saying," said Vancerile grandly, "That my business with the King has been fulfilled, for you see, my name is Vancerile of Llyn and I have, you might say, brought this on King Reagan."

Meagan frowned. "You really must be joking, sir," she said politely. "I don't quite understand what you are saying…but what I do understand of it is quite ridiculous."

"My dear child," said Vancerile in irritation, "I am all that I say. Look towards the door--" they looked, and saw two men standing there, both cloaked and masked in the deepest midnight black. "--And you will see that I did not come alone. Now, the scullery drudge is dismissed, for I have things to tell you, Princess Meagan."

 

Part II

 

Chapter Three: Enforcing the Idea

Albuterol flounced into the Throne Room, ignoring Blackcoat and Evilgrin standing in the doorway. She had obviously made use of the late Queen's belongings, for she wore her hair in a high pompadour and was clothed in that Queen's third-to-best dress of purple silk. Several rings adorned her fingers and a heavy strand of pearls hung about her neck. She nodded in approval when she saw Vancerile, sitting in the King's throne and wielding the great scepter, conferring with Dark Face.

"Ah, Bute my dear," he said as she entered. "I see that you have found the Queen's chamber…? Very good. Dark Face and I were debating on what we shall do with the Princess, now."

Albuterol looked over to a corner of the Throne Room where the Princess sat, bound and gagged. "Now, Vanny," Albuterol said, "I thought we had agreed that she was to be imprisoned in a tower until we decide what to do permanently. It isn't safe to have her about the Throne Room, you know…even if she is bound."

"Yes but--" Vancerile began, but Dark Face cut him off.

"I think that that is a splendid idea, Miss Beauty-rol," he said smoothly. "Indeed, if I have the measure of the Sinthanian people correct, they will waste no time in coming to the aid of their Princess once the word leaks out--as it surely will…did you not mention a certain scullery girl, Master Vancerile?" he asked, turning to Vancerile.

"Yes, Rebecca Pea," Vancerile said with distaste. "Her mother is Vikki Pea, an old acquaintance of ours, right Bute? Anyway…yes, she is sure to tell everyone she can as soon as possible."

Albuterol nodded in satisfaction. "But there is one more thing," she said. "I think that this decision cannot rest wholly on our shoulders, Vanny dear. I think that we should call in young Rebecca and let her decide." She turned to the Princess. "Miss Pea is your dear friend, is she not?" Meagan nodded. "Then we shall allow her the decision, Vanny."

§

Rebecca was in the room she shared with Ann when Martha of Rae entered. Martha was a country girl who was not much older than Rebecca was--just fourteen--and the two were friends to some degree. "He wants ye," Martha said, panting. "And ye best go noo--he's got an awful temper, that one. I dinna know what he'll do to ye if ye're goin', but I dinna think that can be much worse than what he'll do to ye if ye're goin' to stay here."

"I'll go, then," said Rebecca resolutely. "Thanks, Martha." Without another word she ran to the Throne Room, where she met Albuterol and Vancerile. She nodded curtly to Albuterol and to the latter she said: "I was summoned?"

Vancerile nodded, putting the tips of his long fingers together around the scepter. "Yes--Becca, is it? --I did summon you. We--my wife and I--have an important decision to make, and as the decision concerns you, Becca, we decided that you should decide for us, as it concerns your fate and that of your Princess. Bute, would you…do the honors?"

"Yes, Vanny," Albuterol cooed. "You have a few choices. Firstly, you could remain in the same position as you are, and have been, only with a slight change of master--me. You understand, don't you? If you choose this, your pretty companion can join you, and you can live a happy life serving us. I promise that no harm will come to you. Also, Matthew Haroldson, who, I believe, is a friend of yours, will also remain as-is, as will his father.

"Your second choice is to spend the rest of your miserable life in a dungeon with your Princess. This shall be done accordingly if you so wish it. Alas, I cannot say what will happen to the Haroldsons and your other acquaintances in the palace.

"Your third choice is to leave the palace and be free. If you do this, Matthew Haroldson and his father shall be executed, as we have no further use for them, as well as the rest of your companions in the palace."

"What will happen to Meagan if I choose the last?" Rebecca asked.

"Ah, yes," Albuterol said happily, "I had forgotten that. Your pretty little Princess shall be locked in the highest tower in Sinthane--probably here, in Syndi--and never let out--unless, that is, dear Vanny would like to take her as a bride. Now, please make your decision, and quickly, so that we may carry out our plans."

"I wish to leave this place," said Rebecca, plan in mind. With this, she fled the Throne Room.

§

She first went to the gamekeeper's cabin, where she met Amy busily sweeping. "Where is your uncle?" Rebecca asked. Amy shrugged. "He went somewhere with Aunt Ermie," she said. "I don't know where, though."

"Well, if he comes back, please tell him to come to my mother--Vikki Pea's--home immediately, and Matthew too. Please?"

"Okay," Amy said. "I will, but I don't know when they'll be back." Rebecca did not hear this, however--she flew off towards the Syndi Valley.

§

"Mama, Mama!" Rebecca called as she ran, panting, up to the small cottage. Benjamin came out.

"Mama'th out back," he said. Without a word Rebecca ran around to where her mother was reading at the base of a large cherry tree.

"Mama, Mama!" she cried. "It's Meagan! Come quickly! Help!" With this she stopped for breath.

"Now, Becky," Vikki said soothingly, "Please begin at the beginning."

Rebecca told the whole story--how Vancerile had entered in disguise, and disposed of the King, and captured Meagan, how Albuterol had given her the three choices, and how she had chosen to leave. "I see," said Vikki when her daughter was finished. "Come on, child, and we shall see what we can do about this."

She led Rebecca into a ramshackle old barn, from which place she took a coil of thick rope. "This should do it," said Vikki. "If we can get to the tower than all is not lost, and I am sure that the Princess will help us too. Now, please go and change into a pair of Jay's trousers."

Rebecca started to protest, but Vikki cut her off. "I know what I'm doing, Becky," she said sternly. "Please go and change."

§

After Rebecca left the Throne Room Meagan was untied. "I am very sorry, my dear," said Vancerile, "That you must be put into such a horrid place as a tower. But I'm afraid that we cannot have you interfering with our plans, you see, so the tower shall have to do."

"Is there any way that I can escape the tower?" Meagan asked fearfully. Albuterol shook her head. "No, Princess," she said cheerfully, "None at all. You cannot get out of going there, and you cannot get out once you are there."

With this Albuterol summoned Blackcoat and Evilgrin from where they stood guarding the doorway. "Take her away," said Albuterol. Dark Face went to assist his two soldiers. He showed Albuterol a small lens that had been inserted into his coat, and explained that this was one of Shangle's more cunning devices.

"It should project pictures back to the paper which I shall give you," he told her. "That way you may know what is happening."

The three Masked Soldiers led the Princess out of the Throne Room. There were three horses tethered by the castle when the left. Blackcoat and Evilgrin each took one, and Dark Face pulled the Princess up behind him. "If you scream," he said, "I will have to tie you up again," he told her. "If you try to escape, something worse will happen." Meagan nodded in mute understanding, and they were off.

§

"They have arrived at the tower, Vanny," Albuterol called to Vancerile as she watched the paper Dark Face had given to her. "Yes--she's in the tower--they're leaving. Cast the spell!"

§

Vancerile began to cast a dark and evil spell over the Princess. 'Twas a spell of nighttime and stars--a spell of darkness and evil. It was a terrible spell that he cast.

§

Meagan sat on the hard sofa in the high tower-room. Of a sudden she began to feel sleepy…sleepy…sleepy…sleep was enveloping her senses in a soft, dark blanket. Soon she was fast asleep on the hard sofa.

§

As soon as it was fully dark Vikki and Rebecca set out for the tower. They each wore a pair of old trousers--Vikki's having belonged to her late husband, Rebecca's to her brother Jay--and they took turns carrying the heavy coil of rope. "Fifty feet, at least," Vikki had said as she had pulled it from the barn.

It was several miles to the Ishkanberg tower in Syndi. The tale was told that Isaak Ishkanberg was a conniving young man who set out to woo the prettiest girl in Syndi, and when she would not be wooed he built the Ishkanberg tower and locked her in it until she consented to marry him. It was truly the highest tower in Sinthane, and possessed no means of entry or escape. This was why Vancerile had chosen to keep the Princess there, of course.

Finally the tower loomed before them, blacker than the night itself. "Oh," said Rebecca fearfully. "Are you sure that we can make it?"

"If we try hard enough, and if you keep thinking about your little friend, we can make it," said Vikki resolutely. "We've got to make it, Rebecca. Think of what would happen if we did not."

"Oh," said Rebecca, her eyes widening. "Yes, I see. We can make it then. Let's go!"

They set towards the great Ishkanberg tower, which was still a great ways away.

§

"They are leaving the tower," Albuterol said. "Wait--no--they're going back. Oh!" she gasped in astonishment. "It's--it's Vikki Pea! And Rebecca! They haven't seen the Soldiers yet. Come here, Vanny, come and look!"

Vancerile hurried to the table by which Albuterol was sitting. His face registered open amazement as he saw the two figures creeping carefully towards the tower. "What are they doing, Bute?" he asked wonderingly.

"I don't know," she said with equal awe. "Can you communicate with Dark Face in any way?"

"I can try," he said. "What shall I tell them?"

"Tell them to wait until the signal is given. When we know what they're up to they will receive further orders."

"Right," said Vancerile, striding over to the thrones where his little black bag of Magician's tools lay. He carefully put together a few small gadgets and then spoke softly into it, issuing instructions. Albuterol, still watching the magic paper, saw Evilgrin nod towards the lens inside Dark Face's cloak. "He heard," Albuterol said to her husband.

"Good," Vancerile replied. "That should do it, then."

§

Vikki Pea carefully uncoiled the rope. Tying a loose knot in one end she threw it up, hoping to catch a jutting stone, and missed. Three more times she tried it, until the rope finally caught. "Let's go," she said to Rebecca.

§

Back in the castle, Albuterol and Vancerile watched Vikki in amazement. "You don't think she is going to try to climb it, do you?" Albuterol asked. Vancerile only shook his head in wonderment.

§

Vikki went first. She took the rope firmly in both hands and began to climb the sheer wall, using the uneven stones as steps of some sort. After what seemed like an eternity she was at the top, motioning for Rebecca to follow.

§

"She's up!" Albuterol hissed. "Tell them to grab the girl before she can follow! The Princess cannot be rescued!"

§

As Rebecca began to climb the wall after her mother she heard a soft rustling in the bushes. She stopped, paralyzed with fear, as five masked men stepped out. "Mama!" she cried fearfully. "It's them--it's the Masked Soldiers!" Vikki made no reply, but the rope began to move slowly upward. She clung blindly to it, her gaze riveted on the cloaked figures in front of her who were furiously calling to each other and to her, to come back down. When she was halfway up the rope stopped moving, and she heard her mother call softly down to her.

"Becky, help me! I cannot pull you much farther--you must climb!"

Rebecca spurred suddenly into action. Dark Face was even then pulling out his own rope to follow her. Climbing furiously she scaled the rest of the height to the tower, where she collapsed inwards through the window onto the floor, panting. Vikki quickly pulled the rope in the rest of the way, and cut the end of Dark Face's as it caught on a sharp stone.

Rebecca looked around the small tower-room, which was bare of furnishings except for a hard wooden sofa in the corner. It was on this sofa that Meagan lay, sleeping peacefully as if nothing had happened. Rebecca ran over to her and shook her gently until the Princess opened her eyes groggily. Rebecca put a finger to her lips and motioned for Vikki to come over also. Meagan sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and looking around her in amazement. "Where am I…?" she asked sleepily.

"You're in the Ishkanberg tower in Syndi," Vikki replied in a whisper. "It's where Vancerile brought you. Do you remember anything at all?"

Meagan shook her head. She struggled to rise but Vikki pushed her back down. "Save strength," she cautioned. "We'll have to climb back down, I believe."

Rebecca went back to the window. "I don't see them anywhere," she called softly. "I don't know if they're hiding or if they've gone back."

Vikki joined her at the window. "There is only one way to find out," she said resolutely. "I'm going to climb down, and see. Wait for me to give you two the signal. I'll try to hold off as long as possible for the Princess, but I'm not sure."

"Okay," said Rebecca softly. "Go, Mama. Please be careful!"

§

"The paper has gone blank," Albuterol said in annoyance. "I guess that means that Dark Face is returning. I don't know if he's got the prisoners or not."

Vancerile did not answer. Albuterol turned to look at her husband questioningly. He was toying with a small glass vial of some clear substance. "What is that?" Albuterol asked. Vancerile motioned wordlessly for her to come see.

It was indeed a small glass bottle, full of clear liquid, with a label reading

 

"Vanny, what is it?" she asked.

"It's Shaclec Poison," he said finally. "Deadly, very deadly. It takes thirty minutes to take effect…but when it is in effect, it's instant death."

Albuterol smiled. "That's smart of you, Vanny. I wouldn't have guessed it of you, but I must say--very brilliant maneuver on your part. It does beat keeping the King forever."

Vancerile gave his wife a startled look. "What do you mean, wife?" he asked in puzzlement.

"You mean," said Albuterol slowly, "That you were not going to give it to the King?"

"No-o," said Vancerile slowly. "I wasn't. I didn't know about it--it slipped from Dark Face's cloak, when he left. I picked it up and didn't look at it until now."

Albuterol's eyes widened. "You don't think…" she breathed. Vancerile nodded grimly.

"I think that it was meant for us, Bute," he said, "Courtesy of the great and terrible, Lord Shangle himself."

§

Rebecca lowered her mother down the tower wall slowly and carefully. When Vikki was at the bottom she untied the rope from about her waist and Rebecca pulled it back up.

Vikki set off into the bushes surrounding the Ishkanberg tower as silently as possible, hoping not to alert anyone to her presence. After fifteen minutes' search she concluded that the Masked Soldiers had indeed left, and motioned for Rebecca and Meagan to begin descending.

Meagan went first, with Rebecca keeping a firm hold on the rope and lowering her slowly down. When the Princess was all the way down Rebecca tied the rope tightly to an outcropping of stone and started to climb slowly down the wall. Her descent was slower than the other's had been, as she had to find handholds and footholds, but after a short while she was back on the ground. The three of them sat on the ground against the tower wall so that Princess could gather her strength, and then they set off once again.

§

Elianda of Syndi was one of the only remaining Sorceresses in Sinthane. She lived in the midst of a treacherous Swamp, and so very few ever ventured to find her. She liked it that way--the few people who did find her to ask favors of her were all brave-hearted enough to have come through the great Swamp to find her and therefore brave enough to receive what they asked.

It was to Elianda of Syndi that Vikki, Rebecca, and Meagan made their way now. It took them two full hours to get through the Swamp, but get through it they did.

Elianda greeted them cordially, and asked what they desired of her.

"Please," said Meagan. "I am the Princess Meagan of Sinthane. I have come to grant a boon of you, if I may."

"Continue," said Elianda politely.

"My poor, dear father has been enspelled by the evil Magician Vancerile of Llyn. I ask you--no, I beseech you--to please lift this spell from him. If you do this I shall see to it that you are hereafter made the Palace Sorceress, if you like."

Elianda considered this offer. "Many a time I have wished that more people would seek my arts for the good of mankind. Tell me, if I accept this position thee has offered me, will my magic be sought after for evil purposes?"

Meagan shook her head quickly. "Oh no, ma'am, we--I--shall see to it that your craft is used only for good."

"Then I shall do it for thee, Princess," said Elianda promptly, and started the spell.

§

King Reagan opened his eyes sleepily, the fog which had enveloped his senses fading slowly away. He sat up and looked around him, wondering where he was.

"Ah," he murmured, as he glimpsed an iron door with a small window. The window was set with solid iron bars. He was in his own prison cell.

He carefully searched every nook and cranny of the south wall, then the east, and finally the west. It was on the west wall that his hand touched the hidden panel. This panel swung creakily open to reveal a shallow cabinet, with nothing but a single wrought-iron key inside. He took the key, unlocked the prison door, and stepped into the dungeons of the great Sinthanian palace.

§

Rebecca, Vikki, Meagan, and Elianda of Syndi stepped out of the Swamp. Elianda had guided them safely and quickly through this time, as she was to come with them.

They made their way to the Pea home, where Caleb, Jay, and Benjamin waited with Haroldson and his son, Matthew. "Matthew said that Becca told him to come here," Caleb told his mother. "Why, Becca?"

"Can they not help us, Mama?" Rebecca asked. "If we are to take the palace by storm four women are not enough.

"It was brilliant, Becky," Vikki acknowledged. "Now, let us be on our way!"

§

The group went quickly towards the palace. The Peas, Meagan, the Haroldsons, and Elianda were all silent, knowing what could happen if they made their presence known to Albuterol and Vancerile and their minions.

When the palace was in sight they split up--Caleb, Matthew, and Jay went straight in and the rest went in through the kitchen door.

Caleb, Matthew, and Jay arrived in the Throne Room just as King Reagan did. As Vancerile rushed towards him the boys ran after, trying to stop the Magician before he could get to the King. Matthew and Jay each took hold of an arm as Caleb ran for a chair, which they bound the struggling Magician to. Matthew stayed to guard the prisoner, as Caleb and Jay rushed off to cut off a fleeing Albuterol.

Soon the other half of the party arrived in the Throne Room. Meagan rushed to her father, and Rebecca lagged behind her.

"Oh, Papa!" Meagan cried, tears flowing freely down her face. "I was so scared, Papa!" King Reagan just held her wordlessly, weeping unashamedly.

Albuterol and Vancerile were both bound tightly, although there was no sign of the Masked Soldiers. "We need to do something with them," the King said finally. "Throw them in the dungeons for now."

Caleb, Jay, Matthew, and Benjamin rushed to lead the Magician and his wife down to the castle dungeons. They put them each in separate cells, and then turned around to go back up the Throne Room. Jay stopped quite suddenly.

"Did you hear that?" he asked his companions in a voice edged with fear. The four of them stopped.

"Help me, oh help me!" came a cry from somewhere. "Help me, please, somebody help me!"

The boys walked carefully towards the source of the sound. They came to a nearly hidden cell in a corner of the dungeons, where a beautiful woman--as beautiful as the Princess herself--sat moaning pitifully.

Matthew's mouth dropped open in unmasked surprise. "It's the Queen!" he said.

§

Queen Victoria was clothed once again in her finery, and she sat by her husband in the great Throne Room. "Please, your Majesty," Vikki asked, "Why were you in the dungeon?"

"I shall tell the tale to you, if you wish," said the Queen. "It is not very long, but it is somewhat interesting." And she began.

Chapter Four: Queen Victoria's Tale

"This story concerns the Magician Vancerile, as you may have guessed," the Queen began.

"It began on the day that I 'died', the third week of my bout with influenza. That was nearly a year ago. I was slipping from feverish dreams to reality often, and I was not sure what was real and what was not.

"A maid came into my room that day and said that I had a visitor. I could hardly speak, but, assuming that it was my dear Reagan or Meagan, I told the maid to let the visitor in.

"It was the Magician Vancerile. Of course I did not know him at the time, but I do now, and I can say that it was he. He said that he had a magical cure for my disease, and if I would but follow him he would cure me. I trusted him implicitly, thinking that my husband had sent him.

"He led me down to the dungeons. I did not recognize where we were, so great was my fever.

"He led me to the nearly-hidden cell in which you found me, and gave me a vial of poison. He said to drink this, and to remain in the cell, and I would be better soon.

"Something told me not to drink the poison. I did not heed the voice, and I drank four drops. It was very deadly--Shaclec Liquid--and those four poisonous drops nearly killed me. As it was I spent several months in agony, both from the influenza and the poison.

"When I finally came into full consciousness I found myself in the most secluded of the dungeon cells, one that not even Reagan knew of, I believe. I tried to cry for help but my voice was so weak that I could not utter a sound.

"I was in that state for a long time, until you found me. You know the rest of the story."

There was an appalled silence as Queen Victoria finished her tale. "Then Vancerile's Idea must have been conceived long ago, and that was the first step," said Vikki after a few moments' silence. Queen Victoria nodded.

"Yes, when you told me of the attempt on my family's lives I figured that that must have been what had happened," she said. "But that is all in the past now. Let us celebrate this great defeat."

§

There was a seven-day feast throughout all of Sinthane, with the Peas, the Haroldsons and Elianda of Syndi as the guests of honor.

On the seventh day the King stood up. "I would like to make a speech of some sort," he said with a rueful grin. "It is something that I have been trying to put into words since the day we were reunited together.

"We have all the members of the royal family here," he said. "Myself, my wife, and my daughter. Let us all proceed into the Throne Room for a moment. I would like Vikki Pea, her children, the Haroldsons, and Elianda of Syndi to please come also."

Everyone who had been named entered the Throne Room, which was adjacent to the Banqueting Hall. There the King sat down on his golden throne and invited his wife and daughter to sit also. Rebecca noticed for the first time that there were four thrones, instead of three.

"And now," said the King, "I wish to speak to Rebecca Pea. Could you please come forward?

"Eleven and half years ago my dear Victoria gave birth to twin girls. The first was my dear Meagan.

"There was another child, also. When the two of them were nearly two years of age a man came to me in a dream and told me that I must take the second daughter to a widow living in an outlying village, and if I did so, this daughter would save me someday.

"So I did. I took her to this widow, and trusted my dream not to lead me wrong. And now I would like to have my daughter back again."

"Would you like me to find her, sir?" Rebecca asked politely.

The King shook his head. "No, Rebecca. You have already found her in many ways. Will my lost child please come forward--Rebecca."

There was a stunned silence. Rebecca timidly crept forward until she was near the King.

"You are my daughter," he said kindly. "You are now a Princess. And you," he said to Vikki, "shall live no longer in a cottage. You shall live in a small castle very near to my own, where you can come here often. And now, Rebecca, go change your clothes and take your rightful place as Princess."

So Rebecca was taken into her rightful family, and all lived happily ever after.

The End

NOTE: Vancerile and his wife were forever banished from the land. As for the Masked Soldiers and Lord Shangle, they were never heard of again.