A Tale of Two Castles

“I do not want a sometime assistant. You needn’t worry. I will find another.”


I had more pride than that. “Who will replace me?” Nastily I added, “Is another cog coming from Lahnt?”

“Ah,” IT said, sounding pleased.

Oh. Oh. I was saying I didn’t want to be replaced. But I was a mansioner. I went to the lair entrance. A brisk wind blew cloud tatters across the sky. I stepped outside. Cold. I stepped inside. Warm. Outside again.

Master Sulow had no warmth. If he’d been my master when I’d been imprisoned in the tower, he’d likely have left me there.

Pacing back and forth between the rain vats on either side of the lair, I debated with myself.

My masteress said I didn’t have the temperament to be a mansioner, and in truth, I’d hated mansioning the moonsnake over and over for the king. But perhaps I’d merely hated the king.

And perhaps there was more than one way to be a mansioner, not simply as a member of a troupe. Since I’d been in Two Castles, I’d mansioned for Sulow, for the court, for the king, and for two bewildered guards.

But in a troupe, mansioners became better at the roles they repeated. Albin said a mansioner finds something new in a part each time she steps into it.

I felt pulled in two. I stopped thinking, wrapped my cloak around me, and stared up at the sky. The princess’s cap kept my ears warm.

Her cap! The cap of a poisoner.

I stepped back into the lair, extending my arm and holding the cap in my fingertips. At the fireplace I threw it in.

My masteress reached in and pulled it out before it was even singed. “I deduce you no longer want it.” Enh enh enh.

“I’d rather go bareheaded.”

“Then I suggest you sell it. People will fight to own a cap that once belonged to the poisoner princess. Trade it for half a dozen caps, or I will sell it for you if you like.”

“Sell it, please.” I wanted nothing more to do with the thing.

IT folded the cap carefully. “I will get a better price than you will. Now read to me. I believe you stopped at mustard.”

I found the book in the cupboard. IT had marked my place with a skewer. Outside the wind blew. IT rested ITs head on ITs front claws, ITs eyes on me.

Mother, Father, I thought. A lair is my home.





Epilogue

I did not go to Master Sulow later in the day, and during the night, while I slept in my cozy bed, my mind made itself up. I awoke knowing that, for now at least, I would remain with Masteress Meenore and mansion when the opportunity arose.

Did I mind? Did the decision feel like a sacrifice?

A little. Very little.

Master Sulow was a mere human. His breath never spiraled or turned green. With IT I would have more adventures than I’d get peering out from under Master Sulow’s thumb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are well?”

I smiled. “Very well.”

“Safe?”

I nodded.

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

Thoughtmore, I would say.

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

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

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

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