Fairest (13 page)

I hummed in my mind to drown her out, but I heard her anyway.

“I measure you, and being a seamstress is fascinating. How will we subdue those hips? How will we narrow that tree-trunk waist? How will we—”

Ivi poked her head around the screen. “I must run to a meeting of the king's council.” She made pouty lips. “It will be tedious, I'm sure.” She brightened. “But I've left fabrics for you to consider.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, it's nothing. I can't wait to see you in your new things.” She left.

“So terrible, what befell the king,” Mistress Audra said. “I once measured him for a doublet. King Oscaro has a big heart in a narrow chest. You are finished, Milady. I'll wait outside.”

I dressed and emerged from behind the screen.

Mistress Audra was at the fabrics table. “Come, Milady. See the fine fabrics Queen Ivi has selected for you.”

I liked everything she'd chosen. Each fabric was rich, but none was gaudy. My favorite was a midnight-blue brocade with a ribbon design in an almost imperceptibly lighter shade of blue. I also loved a violet silk so smooth that touching it felt like touching water.

I spent a while longer with Mistress Audra, going over patterns. I picked the simplest fashions in gowns and headdresses, until she complained. “Milady, this is boring. No lace or bows on your head, no puffed sleeves or trains in your gown. People will look at you and go to sleep.”

Sleep would be an improvement over the usual reaction, but I agreed to let Mistress Audra add a few embellishments.

“Very modest. Very discreet. I understand. Milady prefers to make an understatement.”

“Mistress Audra, will the new gowns …” I hesitated. “Will they make any difference?”

“My sweet lady, they will make all the difference. You are shy. You do not like to jump out at people. I am right, no?”

I nodded.

“Your new gowns will look like the finest gowns of the other nobles. Your form will be improved, and you will not be so much noticed.”

The tailor said the gowns wouldn't be ready for six weeks. However, my four copper yorthys persuaded him to hurry. My fitting could take place in twenty-nine days. I'd have my gowns the day after that, right before the next Sing.

When I left the tailor, I started for the entrance and fresh air. But my steps slowed. I could put my free time to better use by visiting the library, where I might learn something of magic mirrors or the meaning of the word
Skulni
. I found a manservant to lead me there.

Inside, the birdsong paused and then took up again. Perhaps birds could read, because there seemed to be at least as many in the library as in the rest of the castle. And birds' nests! The top shelf of every bookcase had a nest, and some of the lower shelves did, too. Frying Pan could find enough eggs here to feed the entire court.

Even so, there were more books than birds. I had never seen so many. I wondered if the king spent much time here. I wondered if he liked books. I wondered if he would ever read again.

Bookcases blocked the windows. I walked through the aisles and squinted at a book title:
Tooth, Tongue, and Trilling
. I pulled out the book and opened it. On the recto was an illustration of a portion of the tongue and several teeth. The vantage point was of a tiny person, standing on a huge expanse of tongue ringed by a wall of towering teeth.

The verso was dense with words. I read a sentence: “Tooth preservation must be the primary object of the conscientious singer.”

I replaced the book and read a title across the aisle:
The Singer's Hiss
. A bookcase in the next aisle was filled with time-of-day songbooks. The opposite bookcase held nothing but songbooks about food and eating:
Muffin Songs
,
Soup Songs
,
Songs to Chew On
, and the like.

Areida would revel in the songbooks. She adored old songs and odd songs, and she remembered every word after a single hearing.

I looked at another title:
Maudlin Ostumo Love Songs.
Marvelous!

But so far I hadn't seen anything about magic or mirrors. I wondered if this was the songs-and-singing library and if there was a second library for other works.

No. The shelves in the next aisle were full of volumes about Ayorthaian history.

In the aisle after that, I discovered I wasn't alone.

At the end of the aisle a man slumped over a desk, his head resting on his forearms, his tangled gray hair spilling to one side. I backed away quietly. He was probably the library keeper. If I woke him, he might direct me to a book about magic mirrors.

But he'd know exactly why a blemish like me wanted it.

I decided to look awhile longer on my own.

In the next aisle I spotted a book called
Court Life: Habits, Rules, and Manners
. Not spells, but something else I could use. I opened it to the index and found—

I turned to page 249, but just as I found it, I heard the scraping sound of a chair being pushed back. I returned the book to its shelf. A hoarse but tuneful voice sang,

“I'm here,” I sang without leaving my aisle. Maybe he could help me without seeing me. “I'm looking for a book about magic mirrors.”

He limped into my aisle, a stoop-shouldered man with one leg shorter than the other. He said, “You have a fine voice, Milady, the finest I've heard, reminds me of—” He sang:

“Not a full book about magic mirrors.” He sang, “
Magic Artichoke Pitters and Other Curious Objects
, a good title—” He broke off and said, “I'll show you. It's with the spell books.”

He limped down the aisle and led me to the shelves across from the blocked west window. He peered at the shelves, and I did, too. I read,
Try This! Strange Enchantments
, and
No Harm Done: Safe and Simple Spells.
The binding was falling off
New Spells for New Times.

Perhaps one of them contained a beauty spell.

“Ah.” The book was on the top shelf, under a nest. He supported the nest with one hand while he pulled the book out.

“Let me see.” He thumbed through it. “It's alphabetical.
M
… Ah, here.”

He sang, “‘Magic mirror: Unique. Little known about. Commanded by maverick fairy Lucinda and often dispensed by her as a wedding gift.'” He switched to speech. “You'd be surprised how often that Lucinda pops up in these magic books. I hope she never pops up in person, by the sound of her.” He sang again. “‘Mirror has beautifying and other appearance-altering properties in conjunction with magic potions.'”

Beauty potions?

“‘The creature within the mirror is called Skulni, a creature of unspecified abilities.'”

Ivi had that very mirror!

“‘He may always alter whomever he reflects, but he may show himself and may speak only to those who've drunk one of the potions.'”

That's why I was beautiful in the mirror. He'd made me beautiful, to please me or to taunt me.

The library keeper read on. “‘He may escape under certain unspecified circumstances. The mirror may be destroyed under certain unspecified circumstances.'” He closed the book. “The tome might have another title.” He sang with disgust, “It should be called
Unspecified
, not overused.”

The most astonishing thought came to me: The mirror—or the potions, or Skulni—may have made Ivi beautiful. She might once have been plain. She might have been as hideous as I was now.

Probably not hideous, if she'd received the mirror just before the wedding. The king wouldn't have fallen in love with a hideous maiden. I recalled what our Amonta tailor's Kyrrian cousin had said of her, that she was “merely pretty.”

I heard the library door open.

A female voice said, “Master Library Keeper?”

“A good title,” he said. “It belongs to me, but I didn't make it up.”

The newcomer was a maidservant, seeking—me! The queen wanted me. I felt frightened.

As we left, I heard the library keeper sing,

The door closed behind us. I would return when I could. I wanted to look at the beauty spells.

I
VI WANTED
me to accompany her on a visit to the king.

As we approached the physician's chambers, we heard a lute and Sir Enole singing a sickroom song.

When we entered, a servant set aside a steaming bowl and bowed. The king seemed unchanged from last night, except that his cheeks were stubbly with a day's growth of beard. A bead of porridge stood on his chin.

That gob of porridge pained me. He was our king!

The servant used her handkerchief to wipe off the porridge.

Ivi knelt by her husband, weeping. She turned to the physician. “Has he spoken my name?”

Sir Enole put down his lute and bowed. “I'm sorry. He has said nothing.”

“Is he at all improved?” I asked.

Sir Enole just looked sad. The servant held the bowl of porridge, waiting to finish feeding the king.

I started for the window. I wasn't looking down, and I almost fell over a pallet on the floor.

Sir Enole said, “Your Majesty, I had a softer mattress brought in and a warmer blanket. If you stay again tonight, I hope you'll be more comfortable.”

“My lord,” Ivi said to the king's slack face, “I am here with Lady Aza.” She took the chair the servant had vacated. “This morning I helped Lady Aza choose her new wardrobe. The tailor has excellent goods.” She described fabrics and patterns, omitting not a single detail.