Fairest (25 page)

I wondered if we'd ever be together again. I was likely to die here, but at least he wouldn't think I was already dead. If he was away searching for me, he wouldn't hear Uju's tale of my death.

I opened Mother and Father's letter. Mother wrote that guards had come. They had searched the inn while the guests stood outside in a rainstorm. Afterward the guards had questioned everyone.

I started to cry.

The letter went on: “We were told that land won't come to us after all, but that Ayortha will pay for the new roof and the new wing.”

As Ijori had promised, the crown had been generous.

He wrote,

I wept harder.

zhamM, out of his endless goodness, sent the messenger back into the world to find Ijori. “But be cautious in your inquiries,” he instructed. “We don't want Maid azacH linked with gnomes. When you find Prince Ijori, tell him his love is well, but tell him not to come.” He turned to me. “It isn't safe until we're certain the court believes you dead.”

I was eager to write a reply to Ijori, assuring him of love and forgiveness.

“Write it,” zhamM said. “Say what you want him to know. But it mustn't be sent. It might fall into the wrong hands. To be exact, it might cause my prediction to come true.”

I did write the note, a song.

zhamM promised to give Ijori the note if anything happened to me.

I received more requests for songs. I sang at celebrations of all sorts: opening a new home cavern, a betrothal, a gold strike, the repayment of a debt. In a month I half filled a purse with gems, small ones, to be exact.

I turned sixteen. I didn't tell zhamM. He would have given me gifts, and he'd given me too much already.

The armorers hadn't yet returned from Ontio Castle, but zhamM said he expected them daily. One morning he asked me if I'd like to see him at work.

I was eager to watch. In Ayortha trials were decided by panels of judges. The gnomes, however, allowed a single judge to rule on cases and dole out punishments.

Court was held in their queen's Throne Room. She wasn't present, and I'd never seen her. zhamM said she was elderly and rarely left her bed.

Two rows of benches had been set up, with an aisle down the middle. zhamM sat in a high-backed silver chair facing the benches. He donned a jeweled cap with two bills, turning the cap so the bills were above his ears. I sat at the end of the first bench. A dozen gnomes—men, women, and three children—came in and sat near me. A minute later a solitary male gnome entered and chose a bench on the other side of the aisle.

zhamM said, “Who has the complaint?”

The man seated next to me said, “I do, widyeH zhamM. I am logH. rigK stole my shovel.”

rigK denied stealing anything. The other gnomes described the circumstances surrounding the theft. I believed them.

At the end, zhamM turned his cap around so the bills pointed front and back. He closed his eyes. People began to chat. rigK took a lanyard out of the pocket of his tunic and began to work on it.

After a full ten minutes, zhamM opened his eyes. “This is my judgment: rigK, I am convinced you stole the shovel. You may keep it.”

I blushed for zhamM. I'd expected wisdom from him. The other gnomes left the room without a protest.

He chuckled. “I see your face, Maid azacH. Our methods are unlike human methods. For us, a trial is a crossroad. When I turned my cap, I looked into the future. I imagined several possible rulings and what would result from them.”

If only Sir Uellu had been able to look into the future before he'd accused me. He'd have seen I wouldn't harm anyone.

If only he'd looked carefully into the past.

“In this case,” zhamM said, “I was reluctant to let the thief have the shovel, but in every future I imagined, the shovel's owner was better off without it, and the thief was a more honest gnome with it.”

“But widyeH zhamM,” I said, “stealing is wrong. Shouldn't the thief be punished regardless of what's to come?”

“Never regardless.” He removed his judge's hat and stood. “In this instance, every possible punishment made this thief more likely to steal again.”

I didn't approve of gnomish justice. If zhamM were to judge Ivi for her crimes, he might foresee that my future and Ayortha's future, and Ivi's future conduct as well, would be better if she weren't punished. Then he wouldn't punish her.

It made me angry even to think of. We'd suffered at her hands. I was still suffering. I wrote a ditty about the trial:

T
HE AFTERNOON FOLLOWING
the trial, zhamM told me he would be leaving in two days. There were several trials he had to preside over beyond Gnome Caverns.

“Near the Featherbed?”

“No. In the south.”

“Oh.” I didn't want him to leave, although I didn't need him. Everyone was kind, and a few gnomes spoke Ayorthaian. I had been here for six weeks. I knew how to find whatever I wanted. But zhamM made me feel safe. If a crossroad came, he would recognize it and know what to do.

“I'll bring back a bushel of human food—food for humans, to be exact.”

“Anything but apples.”

Before he left, the armorers returned from Ontio Castle. Their most important news, wonderful news, was that the king's health had improved. He'd opened his eyes, and he followed people's movements with them. He couldn't walk or talk, but he could raise the pinky finger of his left hand. Sir Enole thought a full recovery possible.

I hugged zhamM, who looked almost as pleased as I felt.

The news that followed was mixed. The king's council was meeting openly again, and food had been dispatched to the drought-stricken south. Ivi still ruled, but nowadays she could be persuaded out of her worst notions. There continued to be occasional mutterings about rebellion.

“Have the birds returned? Are people allowed to sing?”

Yes, and yes.

“What of Maid azacH?” zhamM said. “Is she spoken of?”

The armorer named dyfF said, “You are believed dead, Maid azacH. Master Uju let it be known that you died saving him from ogres.”

How kind! “Was he believed?”

“He said no one questioned his tale. I expect he whispered a different story in your queen's ear.”

“You called him
Master
Uju,” I said. “Not
Sir
? The queen didn't knight him?”

“No,” dyfF said. “I don't think he was knighted.”

“Was Maid azacH exonerated?” zhamM asked.

“There was much debate,” dyfF said, “but in the end you weren't exonerated.” The tip of his nose turned violet. “You had still sung for the queen. They believe you schemed to win your position.”

“Humans!” zhamM snorted.

It wasn't safe yet for me to leave Gnome Caverns.

“Did Prince Ijori return?” I said.

“No,” dyfF said. “He was away the whole while.”

zhamM left the next morning. We said good-bye in the Banquet Hall after breakfast. He seemed almost as unhappy as I felt.

“I feel foreboding,” he said. “Be on the watch for crossroads. If you need advice, go to dyfF. He can't see ahead, but he has a good mind for what's nearby.”

zhamM said he'd be back in three weeks at the latest. “If you need me, dyfF will send a messenger. I can be back in two days.”

I nodded again and sang a bit of a parting song.

He began to sway, and his worried expression faded.

He raised his hands. “Farewell, Maid azacH. I wish you could illuse all the way to me wherever I go.”

I wasn't likely to be bored while he was gone. I had eight songs to write in the next week, and I'd likely receive more commissions. In addition, I was studying Gnomic from a book zhamM had given me. I hoped to amaze him with my progress when he returned.

I hoped to amaze him with something else as well—a gift. I started for the market. I hadn't spent even a flake of my song fees. zhamM paid for my meals, and my bed cavern belonged to him. My wardrobe closet was full of gnomish gowns and sashes that he'd provided. He said my songs and delicious ostumo left him in my debt.

So now I wanted to buy something for him, a tunic. He loved them so. He had striped tunics and flowered tunics and paisley tunics and plaid tunics, all with emerald buttons. I knew from Father, who collected brass stirrups, that if you love a thing, one more is always welcome.

Emerald buttons were beyond my purse, but I hoped to find a tunic embroidered with htun thread that I could afford. I went to the stall of zhamM's tailor and discovered to my dismay that a dozen purses would be needed for a htun-embroidered tunic.

I had no idea what to buy instead. I wandered from stall to stall. There were jeweled shovels, jeweled hammers, and jeweled chamber pots, of all things. There was even a jeweled strongbox—which seemed to defeat the purpose of a strongbox.

A peddler proffered a tray of root candy. Icing had been applied so that each piece looked like a jewel. To me it was a case of one inedible thing being disguised as a different inedible thing.