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MISUNDERSTANDINGS

Some distance away from the castle, although not so far that she could not see its silver gleam against the green backdrop of the surrounding forests, Mistaya sat talking with Poggwydd about proper behavior. It was a discussion that was taking considerable time and effort, and they had been at it for several hours now. That these two citizens of Landover should be engaged in a discourse on this particular subject was of itself rather strange, and the irony of it would not have been lost on Ben Holiday had he been present to witness it. No doubt he would have had something to say to his daughter about the pot calling the kettle black or how people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.

Willow, on the other hand, would have pointed out that sometimes people worked through their own problems by trying to help others with theirs, and that this could be particularly effective when the nature of those problems was so similar.

“If you want to be accepted by others, you have to be considerate of their feelings,” the pot was saying to the kettle.

Poggwydd frowned. “No one is considerate of us. No one wants anything to do with us. G’home Gnomes are friendless outcasts in a friendless world.”

“Yes, but there are reasons for this, as I have been saying,” Mistaya explained patiently. “For instance, taking things that don’t belong to you is not a good way to endear yourself.”

Poggwydd bristled. “G’home Gnomes are not thieves, Princess. We are finders of lost items, with which we then barter or trade. It is a time-honored profession, and one in which our people have been engaged for centuries. Just because we are not skilled craftsmen or clever artisans does not mean we deserve to be treated badly.”

Mistaya sighed. They were covering familiar ground without making much progress. “Poggwydd, you do not find ‘lost items’ in other people’s storerooms and closets. You do not find them in their sheds and huts. You do not find them in their kitchen cabinets and pantries, some of which are bolted and locked.”

Poggwydd screwed up his monkeyish face and grimaced. “Those are harsh words. Unpleasant accusations.” He thought about it a moment and suddenly brightened. “Where is your proof?”

“Well, in your case, finding you hung from a tree limb by an angry kobold who just happens to serve my father would be a prime example.”

“That was a case of mistaken identity. It wasn’t me. Probably wasn’t even a G’home Gnome, although there are some among us—as there are some among you—who do not obey the rules of the tribe. But if I were pressed for an explanation, I would think it was probably another kobold—perhaps even the one who accused me.”

He nodded with some degree of self-satisfaction, and she wanted to smack him. “Bunion doesn’t lie and he doesn’t have any reason to steal things to which he has free access,” she pointed out. “Besides, Parsnip saw you, too. That suggests you might want to rethink your explanation. The fact is, Poggwydd, you were somewhere you shouldn’t have been. You weren’t invited into the castle, let alone into the kitchen and the pantries. This is an example of being where you aren’t supposed to be for a purpose that shows no consideration for others.”

The G’home Gnome pouted. “I would have paid it all back, you know. Eventually.”

“Well, if you hadn’t done it in the first place, you wouldn’t have had to worry about paying anyone back. And you could have asked for whatever it was you took. Maybe Parsnip would have given you what you needed. Next time, you should just ask for me.”

He shook his head. “No, I can’t do that. You are a Princess. Why would a Princess even be told I was asking for her?”

She brushed back her blond hair. “We’re getting off the point. We were talking about proper behavior. Or lack thereof. G’home Gnomes suffer from a failure to recognize what proper behavior is. If they want to be accepted by others, they have to earn their respect.”

Poggwydd snorted. “How is that supposed to happen? Everyone’s already made up their minds about us.”

“And you don’t do anything to change those minds. Besides ‘finding’ things in people’s houses, you manage to latch on to their pets, too. Often right out of their pens. And then you eat them.”

“That is a lie!” Poggwydd leaped to his feet, flinging his arms about, his wizened face screwed up like a walnut. “We do not eat pets. We eat wild creatures we find wandering about. If they happen to be pets that have strayed, what are we to do about that? How are we to know? People blame us, but they don’t want to share that blame! If they took better care of their pets, these things wouldn’t happen!”

Mistaya scratched an itch on her nose and smiled. “Why don’t you stop eating cats and dogs altogether? There are plenty of other things you could eat. Squirrels or birds or voles. Or even bog wumps, if you could catch one. Eat some of those instead.”

“Bog wumps!” Poggwydd was horrified. “Do you eat bog wumps? Does anyone?”

“Well, I don’t,” she agreed. “But I don’t eat cats and dogs, either.”

The gnome sat down again. “I don’t think you know what you are talking about.” He gave her an accusatory stare. “I think you are badly confused about all of this.”

She pressed her lips tightly together in frustration and nodded. “Why don’t you just think about what I said,” she suggested finally. “In the meantime, stay away from the castle. If you need food, come ask for me. I will tell everyone I am to be told if you do. Is that all right?”

Poggwydd folded his arms across his skinny chest and hunched his shoulders as he looked away from her. “I might just leave. I might just go back to where I came from and forget about trying to make a home here. I don’t think this is going to work out.”

She got to her feet. Couldn’t argue with logic like that, she thought. “I’ll come back and see you again tomorrow,” she promised. “We can take a walk and not talk about anything, if you like.”

He shrugged. “If you can spare the time.”

She left him sitting there looking off into space, pretending that nothing she said or did mattered to him, that he was above it all. She had come out to talk with him after hearing from Bunion the whole of what had led to the little fellow being strung up by his heels, wanting to do something to prevent it from happening again. Bunion and Parsnip could promise that it wouldn’t, but if they caught Poggwydd again where he wasn’t supposed to be she wasn’t all that sure the promise would mean anything. Kobolds were not known for their generous natures, and even though these two were her friends, friendship only went so far.

As she strolled back through the grove of Bonnie Blues toward the castle, she tried to decide what else she could say that would make a difference. She needed to do something besides brood on her situation as a former Carrington student, an identity she was trying to put behind her at this point. Her father hadn’t said anything more about her suggestion that she go back to being tutored by Questor and Abernathy, but she had a feeling he was considering something else. No one had indicated what that might be, not even her two would-be tutors, who kept hemming and hawing around the subject whenever she brought it up to them.

So now she was thinking that it might be a good plan to come up with an idea of her own, a project that would convince her father that she was doing something useful. Working with the disadvantaged had always appealed to her, and there was no one more disadvantaged than the G’home Gnomes. If she could demonstrate her ability to change even one of them for the better, then her chances of being allowed to try to do so with all of the others would be greatly improved.

However, Poggwydd wasn’t doing much to cooperate, and she was starting to think this might be tougher than she had thought.

She was still mulling this dilemma over, paying little attention to anything around her as she meandered out of the forest and onto the roadway leading to Sterling Silver, when she suddenly found herself face-to-face with Laphroig of Rhyndweir and his entourage. There were six or eight of them, all on horseback save for the driver of the carriage in which Laphroig was riding. She didn’t realize who it was right away, still distracted with thoughts of Poggwydd and G’home Gnomes, and so she stood where she was as the procession rolled up to her and stopped. By then, it was too late to consider an escape.

Laphroig flung open the carriage door, leaped down, and hurried over to her. “Princess Mistaya,” he greeted warmly, reptilian tongue flicking out as he executed a deep bow.

“Lord Laphroig,” she returned warily, only barely managing not to call him Lord Lafrog. She had heard Abernathy use the nickname often enough that she had begun doing so, as well.

“So wonderful to see you!” he declared effusively.

He grasped her right hand with both of his and began kissing it effusively. Rather forcibly, she extracted it from his grip and gave him a meaningful frown. “It’s not that good to see me. But thank you for the compliment.”

She had learned something about diplomacy while growing up a Princess in her father’s court. You were always polite, even when what you most wanted was to be anything but.

“I hadn’t dared hope that I would be so fortunate as to encounter you personally on this visit. But now that I have, I shall consider it an omen of good fortune.”

She nodded, taking in his strange outfit. “What is that you’re wearing?” she asked, unable to help herself. “Why aren’t you wearing black?”

“Ah, you’ve come right to the crux of the matter,” he replied, giving her a knowing wink. “My clothing is not the usual black because my visit is not the usual visit. It is a different reason entirely that brings me to Sterling Silver. I have been to see your father concerning you.”

“Have you?” She felt a sudden chill sweep through her. “About me?”

“I have requested permission to court you with the intention that you should become my new wife and the mother of my children!” he declared, sweeping the hat from his head and bowing deeply once more. “I intend that we should marry, Mistaya.”

It took her considerable effort, but she managed to keep her face composed and her emotions concealed. “You do?”

“Your father has already said he would consider the matter. I shall use that time to come calling on you regularly. I shall make you see that we are the perfect match.”

In your dreams, she thought instantly. But what was this about her father agreeing to consider the matter? Shouldn’t he have dismissed it out of hand? What was he thinking?

“Lord Laphroig.” She gave him her most charming smile. “Do you not already have a wife? Are you not already spoken for?”

A cloud of gloom settled over his froggy features. “Unfortunately, no. A terrible tragedy has occurred. My son passed away quite suddenly less than two weeks ago. Dear little Andrutten. A fever took him. My wife, in her grief, chose to follow him into that dark realm of death, and now both are gone and I am left alone and bereft of family.”

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t heard,” she said, embarrassed by her ignorance.

She remembered his wife, a pale, slender woman with white-blond hair and sad eyes. There were stories about that marriage, and none of them was good. She had never seen their child.

He bowed anew. “Your condolences mean everything.”

“I should think you would be in mourning for them,” she suggested pointedly. “For a suitable time before courting anyone.”

He shook his head as if she were clueless. “I will be in mourning for them forever. But duty calls, and I must answer. A Lord of Rhyndweir requires a wife and sons if he is to fulfill his duties. I must not leave the Lordship imperiled, even for as long as thirty days. I must provide an heir to reassure my people.”

Whatever this was about, Mistaya was certain that it had nothing to do with duty and obligation. Laphroig was up to something, just as he was always up to something, and somehow his machinations had found their way to her doorstep. She decided to lock and bar the door before it could be forced.

“My Lord, I am hardly a suitable match for you,” she declared. “I am young and naïve and not yet well trained in the art of wifely duties.” She nearly gagged on this part. “I am best suited for continued study at an institution of higher learning—as I am sure my father has told you.”

Laphroig cocked his head. “It was my understanding that you had been dismissed from Carrington.”

She stared at him, sudden anger boiling up as she realized that only a spy could have provided such information. “I intend to continue my education elsewhere.”

He smiled. “This in no way hinders my plans for you. You can be tutored at Rhyndweir castle for as long and extensively as you like. Tutors can be engaged to educate you on any subject.” He paused. “Save those only a husband can teach.”

She flushed bright red despite herself. “My Lord, I think you fail to understand the situation—”

He stepped forward suddenly, standing right next to her, his head bent close to her own, his protruding eyes fixing on her as if she were a troublesome child. There was a possessive quality in that stare that repulsed and frightened her.

“I think, perhaps, it is you who fail to understand, Princess,” he whispered. “Understand me. I am set upon this match. I am set upon you as my wife, and so you shall be. Do not think for a moment that anything will change this. Not even your father.” He paused. “You will come to realize this soon enough. You will come to accept your duty to me. Things will go easier for you when you do.”

He stepped back a pace, but his eyes were still dangerous. He took hold of her wrist and held on tightly. “No one defies me, Princess. When they do, there are unpleasant consequences.”

Suddenly she thought of his wife and child, both dead, and then of his older brother, dying mysteriously, and his younger, not much older than herself, disappeared and never found. An awful lot of people connected to Laphroig had come to a bad end, and as she stood there facing him she knew with a chilling certainty that this wasn’t by chance.

“My father is waiting for me,” she managed, barely able to meet his gaze now. “I have to go.”

He smiled, releasing her wrist. “Of course, you do. Good day, Princess Mistaya.”

He climbed back into the carriage without giving her another glance, and the entire entourage moved away in a rumble of wheels, a thudding of hooves, and a creaking of harness.

Mistaya waited until they were out of sight, and then she set off for the castle in a white-hot heat.

Ben Holiday was at his writing desk, signing work orders for a project that the crown had approved to build a new bridge spanning the Clash Bone Gorge below the Melchor, when Mistaya stormed in, throwing open the door to his study without knocking and then slamming it shut behind her.

“Why did you give The Frog permission to court me?” she demanded, coming to an angry stop in front of his desk, face flushed and hands on hips.

He blinked. “I didn’t.”

“Well, he says you did. I bumped into him out on the road, and he told me the whole story about his plans for our marriage. He said he asked you if he could court me and you said he could!”

“I said I would think about it.”

Her lips tightened into a white line. “Oh, that’s all right, then. Obviously. What’s wrong with me? Of course, you have to think about it! How can you make an informed decision otherwise?”

“I told him that to buy myself a little time, Mistaya. You know how it works when you’re dealing with the men and women in power. Hasty answers—even when you’d like to give them—aren’t always the wisest way to go. Besides, his proposal caught me by surprise, too.”

His daughter scowled. “I think you made a mistake, Father. A very big mistake. I think you needed to tell him straight out that your daughter isn’t going to marry him on the best day of his life and he ought to just forget about it. Putting him off just encouraged him. He thinks you’re seriously considering giving him permission. He practically hauled me off to his castle right then and there! He thinks the matter is settled in all but deed!”

She leaned over his desk, her anger a bright fire in her green eyes. “I do not appreciate being dragged into court matters. I am not some piece of furniture to be given away to anyone who comes around asking! I don’t care if you are King of Landover! I am not a bargaining chip! If you don’t get that, then maybe you’d better do a quick study on the laws of emancipated women in the twenty-first century. Remember how it works in the world you came from, the one you sent me back into to learn more about life? Well, that’s a lesson I learned early on. You don’t give away young women to rich old men!”

“What are you talking about?” Ben leaped to his feet, anger surfacing in him now, too. “Rich old men? Laphroig? He’s not all that much older than you! Anyway, that’s not the point! I have no intention of ‘giving you away,’ as you put it—not to him or to anyone else! But people like Laphroig don’t understand how things work in my world, so I can’t just drop that on them without exercising some diplomacy—”

Mistaya slammed the flat of her hand on his desk. “You aren’t listening to me! He thinks you have already agreed! He implied that it would be smart for me just to go along with his wishes and not to argue the matter. He threatened me out there, Father! He warned me that he was used to getting what he wanted and that I was going to be his latest acquisition whether I liked it or not!”

Ben straightened. “Threatened you?”

“Yes, threatened me!” She straightened, folding her arms across her chest. “He frightens me. I don’t like him, and I don’t want to have to see him again. I’ve heard the stories about his brothers. And now his wife and child are dead, too? And he wants me to marry him?” She shook her head. “I want him kept away from me. He’s dangerous, Father. Bug eyes and lizard tongue or not, he’s scary.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Ben nodded. “I agree with you. I already sent Bunion to see what he could learn about the death of Laphroig’s wife and child. We should know something by tomorrow.”

He held up his hands hastily as he saw the anger flood back into her cheeks. “Not that this changes anything where you are concerned,” he added quickly. “But I think it better if we find out the whole of the story. It may be that Laphroig has overstepped himself, and we can do something about it.”

“So what about me?” she demanded. “Will you tell him he can’t court me, and you won’t give him permission to marry me?”

Ben took a deep breath and exhaled. “I will. But there’s something else we have to talk about, too, and we might as well do it now. Questor, Abernathy, and your mother and I have talked about how you should continue your education. We all understand that you do not want to go back to Carrington. So we won’t ask that of you. But we also agree that continuing your studies here at Sterling Silver isn’t the best choice, either. So we’ve come up with an alternative—one that might actually help us all better deal with Laphroig and his marriage proposal.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “What is it?”

“We want you to go to Libiris as emissary to the throne, to reorganize the library.”

She smiled brightly. “Do you, Father? What a terrible idea. I’m not going.”

“Wait a minute.” Ben held up one hand to ward off whatever else she might be thinking of saying. He could scarcely believe his ears. “You’re not going? Just like that? You haven’t even heard my reasoning! Why are you refusing me out of hand?”

“Because, Father.”

“Because? What does that mean? Because why?”

“Because,” she repeated, putting emphasis on the word. She scowled at him. “Put yourself in my position, if that’s possible. How would you like to be sent off to Libiris for an indefinite stay? Libiris is the backside of beyond! Questor told me all about its history during our studies. There’s nothing there, and the place is a wreck! So now you want me to go there and put it back together? Me, a fifteen-year-old boarding school dropout? Because I’m so qualified for this, maybe? I don’t think so. I think this is just an excuse for getting me out of the way. How do I know what you’ll do about The Frog once I’m away?”

Ben was suddenly furious. “Doesn’t my word count for something with you, Mistaya? Do you think I would go back on it?”

She glared at him. “Frankly, I don’t know what you might do. You haven’t exactly distinguished yourself so far where this business of Laphroig is concerned. I don’t want to go off hoping you’ll do the right thing and come back to a surprise marriage!”

“I’m not going to marry you off to Laphroig!”

“Or anyone else, if you please!” She huffed, pouted, and wheeled away. “Besides, Libiris is beyond help. Even Questor said so.”

“Questor is going with you. You can use the travel time to discuss the matter. In any case, it was his idea in the first place.”

She wheeled back. “I don’t believe you.”

“The library was once an important part of the Kingdom,” he explained patiently. “It was built because one of my predecessors understood the value of books and reading. His undertaking fell apart after he was gone because no one else made an effort to keep things up. But you could change all that. This is a worthy project, Mistaya. If you can reorganize and repair Libiris, we could use it to better educate the people. What could be more important than that?”

She shook her head. “Have you ever been there?”

He hesitated. “No.”

“Do you know what’s in those books?”

“No, but I—”

“Or even if the books are still intact? Doesn’t paper fall apart over time? What’s to say the whole library hasn’t been reduced to a giant rats’ nest?”

He composed himself with some effort. “If it has, then you can come back home, all right? But if not, you have to agree to stay.”

She shrugged. “I’ll give it some thought. Maybe after I’ve heard you tell The Frog he can hop on back to his lily pad, I might go. But not before then and not while I’m feeling like this!”

Ben stood up. Enough was enough. “You are fifteen years old and you don’t have the right yet to determine what you will and won’t do! Your mother and I still make certain decisions for you, and this is one. Your education begins anew at Libiris. You can have today and tomorrow to pack your things and make ready to travel. Then you are going. Is that clear?”

She gave him a look. “What’s clear is that you would do anything to get me out from underfoot. You might even marry me off to someone despicable. That’s what’s clear to me!” She sneered. “Father.”

The door opened suddenly, and Willow stepped through. She glanced purposefully from one to the other. “Why are you both shouting?” she asked. “You can be heard all the way to Elderew. Can you please conduct this conversation in a quieter fashion?”

“This conversation is over!” Mistaya snapped.

“Will you please be reasonable—” Ben started to say, but she stomped out of the room without waiting for him to finish and slammed the door behind her. Ben stared after her in dismay, slowly sinking back into his chair.

Well, that didn’t go very well, he thought.

Willow crossed the room and sat down on the other side of the writing table, her gaze settling on him like a weight.

“Don’t say it,” he said at once.

“I think you could have handled that better,” she said anyway.

“You weren’t here. You didn’t hear what she said.”

“I did not have to be here, and I did not have to hear what she said. It is enough to know that you both kept talking long after you should have stopped. But you, especially. You are the parent, the elder of the two. You know better. Pushing her to do things—worse, telling her she must—is always a mistake.”

“She’s fifteen.”

“She is fifteen in some ways, but she is much older in others. You cannot think of her in the ways you are used to thinking of fifteen-year-old girls. She is much more complicated than that.”

She was right, of course, although he didn’t much like admitting it. He had been drawn into an argument that he was destined to lose from the outset. But that didn’t change what he knew was right or necessary.

“I know I can do better with her,” he conceded. “I know I lose my temper with her when I shouldn’t. She knows how to push all the right buttons and I let her do it.” He paused. “But that doesn’t change things. She is still going to Libiris with Questor the day after tomorrow. I have my mind set on this, Willow.”

She nodded. “I know you do, and I know that it would be good for her to go. But I am not certain she sees it that way.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter how she sees it. She’s going whether she wants to or not.”

He was bothered by how that pronouncement sounded the moment he was finished making it. In the days ahead, he would have cause to remember so.