Fairest (24 page)

“Yes. I'm very put out with him.” He hesitated. “Maid azacH, are you sorry to be part gnome?”

“No!” Although gnomes were ugly by human standards, their ugliness was far less repugnant than an ogre's—not repugnant at all, really. It was the difference, perhaps, between the looks of a cockroach and a grasshopper.

Besides, the gnomes who'd stayed at the Featherbed had always been kind. Mother and Father had liked them, too. “I'm not sorry—if I really am part gnome.”

“You are. It has happened before. My aunt's husband had some human in him.”

Now was the time to ask. “widyeH zhamM, may I stay here?”

“Cousin, did you think we would toss you out?”

I wept again. For the second time in my life I was being accepted into a fold.

zhamM cleared his throat. “Perhaps you can teach us to make ostumo as it should be made.”

I laughed through my tears. “I'll be glad to.”

He cleared his throat again. “To be exact, you can do more than that for us.”

I wiped my eyes. “Yes?”

“We would love to hear you sing. I have spoken of your voice ever since I first heard it. But also, I know of no human songs about us, so … would you compose a few?”

I wrote a letter to Mother and Father, telling all. zhamM gave it to a messenger and also dispatched two gnome armorers to Ontio Castle. While displaying their newest swords and shields, the armorers would see how news of my death had been received and whether Ivi retained her former power.

“You may stay here as long as you like, Maid azacH,” zhamM said. “But it's best to know where matters stand.”

I wanted to ask the armorers to take note of Ijori—if he seemed to mourn me or if he seemed untroubled. But then I remembered I didn't care.

I wrote a series of songs about living with the gnomes. The song making saved me from despondency and anguish. I couldn't think of Ivi or Ijori without rage or pain. Writing songs was better.

My first song was about zhamM and what he meant to me. I sang it at a dinner in the Banquet Hall. I was hardly nervous. Compared with my feelings the first time I sang at the castle, I was as calm as a tree. zhamM had promised that everyone would love my singing, and I believed him.

As I sang, I discovered how gnomes blush—the tip of zhamM's bulbous nose turned violet.

My next song described the magnificence of Gnome Caverns. At the entrance to the Banquet Hall, for example, a milky rock tower rose, perhaps fifteen times my height. In clusters around the chamber were delicate rock straws that extended, thinner than my pinkie, from floor to ceiling.

The only aspect of the Banquet Hall I omitted from my song was the food. I yearned for more variety than what is dug up from the ground. After a week I would have given my golden plate for a leg of chicken, a scone, a bowl of fruit. zhamM knew, I think, and others might have, too. Often I'd pick at my food and remind myself I had to eat to stay alive.

The greatest marvel in Gnome Caverns was the gnomes. They accepted my presence as though I had lived among them forever. They told me over and again—in pantomime, since few spoke Ayorthaian—how glad they were to have a human visitor. They stayed in our world sometimes, but we never stayed in theirs.

They loved my voice and my songs, which zhamM translated. They swayed, just as we did, when they liked something. And they liked everything!

Two weeks after I came, a gnome asked me to sing for her daughter, who was to begin her apprenticeship as a jeweler. There was to be a ceremony. Both of them would be honored if I sang, and the mother would pay me. Would a small diamond be enough?

A diamond! There were no coins here. The currency was gems. I'd never been paid for a song before. I would have refused the jewel, but zhamM told me to accept. Then he educated me about gnome apprenticeships so I could write the song.

The ceremony took place in the market cavern. The maid chanted something to her new master and bowed from her waist. The maid's mother gave the master a scroll. I was told it was time to sing. Everyone smiled.

This was my song:

They began to sway.

At the end they raised their hands, as we do. Then the maid's father passed out tumblers of mineral water, the gnomes' favorite drink, as ostumo was ours. We all drank, and the proceedings ended.

The mother paid me. The diamond was smaller than the ones in the pebble bowl in my bed cavern. But it was mine. I'd never thought I'd own a diamond.

As zhamM and I left the market cavern, a candle vendor wanted to sell me candles. An old woman wanted to sell me tree-root confections, awful shriveled stuff. They knew I had a diamond to spend.

When we reached zhamM's parlor, I asked him to look into the future once more for me. I was wondering if I ever might go home.

He straightened a book on his low table, then rang for a servant. It was time for his afternoon ostumo. I had spent hours in the gnomes' kitchen, going over the process of making ostumo, and the gnomish chefs could now produce a drinkable brew.

He picked up a book, then set it down. “I have already looked ahead again for you. Maid azacH … when I foretold for you at the Featherbed, I saw you here, but I didn't see beyond. Here you are, and we have gone beyond.”

He was frightening me.

“There may be a beyond that follows what I saw this time.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw you lying on the ground.”

Dead?

“Several figures milled about. Remorse and gloating came from one of them. Remorse and gloating, both at once, to be exact.”

“Was I dead?”

“I don't know. You didn't stir.”

I
ASKED ZHAM
M if the people surrounding me were gnomes.

“They must have been. You were somewhere in Gnome Caverns. I saw glow iron again.”

“Was I much older than I am now?” Perhaps he'd seen years into the future.

“I couldn't tell. It could be tomorrow or ten years hence.”

“Must it happen?”

“No. You could come to a crossroad and choose a different direction. Or the figure gloating over you might.”

“But the likelihood is that it will come to pass, yes?”

zhamM nodded. “Yes, to be exact.”

“What should I do?”

“Be cautious. When you have a decision to make, consider carefully. Violence is rare here, but a gnome is an implacable enemy.”

If I departed Gnome Caverns and never returned, I'd be safe from zhamM's prediction. I thought it over in bed that night and decided to remain at least until the armorers returned from Ontio Castle. Their news would help me choose how to proceed.

The next day the messenger arrived from the Featherbed with a letter from Mother and Father. I took it to my bed cavern to read. When I opened it, I found a note from Ijori tucked inside.

Ijori! At the Featherbed? My heart skipped, then beat too fast.

I read his first.

I forgave him. Of course I forgave him. He needn't repent.

Now that I was beautiful, I didn't want to believe he'd never thought me ugly. But perhaps it was true. He was extraordinary.