Ella Enchanted (8 page)

She was kinder than anyone I’d ever known. When Julia, the tall wench, ate too many grapes from Madame Edith’s arbor and was sick all night, Areida nursed her, although Julia’s friends slept soundly. I helped, but only for Areida’s sake. My nature was not so forgiving.

In the garden one evening, I found myself telling Areida about Mother.

“Before she died, we used to climb trees like this one.” I rested a hand on the trunk of a low-branching oak. “We’d go way up and sit as quiet as could be. Then we’d toss twigs or acorns at anyone who passed beneath.”

“What happened to her?” she asked. “Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.”

I didn’t mind. When I finished telling her, she sang an Ayorthaian mourning song.

_”Hard farewell,

With no greeting to come.

Sad farewell,

When love is torn away.

Long farewell,

Till Death dies.

“But the lost one is with you.

Her tenderness strengthens you,

Her gaiety uplifts you,

Her honor purifies you.

More than memory,

The lost one is found.“_

Areida’s voice was as smooth as syrup and as rich as gnomes’ gold. I cried, steady tears, like rain. And, like rain, they brought ease.

“You have a beautiful voice,” I said when I could speak.

“We Ayorthaians are all singers, but Singing Mistress says my voice is too husky.”

“Hers is thin as a string. And yours is perfect.”

A bell rang in the house, calling us in to prepare for bed.

“Is my nose red from crying?” I asked.

“A little.”

“I don’t want Ha— the others to see. I’ll stay out awhile longer.”

“Manners Mistress will be angry.”

I shrugged. “She’ll only tell me I’ve disgraced the king.”

“I’ll stay with you. I can watch your nose and tell you when it’s not red anymore.”

“Pay attention. Don’t let your eyes wander.” I wrinkled the feature.

Areida giggled. “I won’t.”

“Manners Mistress will ask what we’re doing out here.” I was laughing too.

“I’ll tell her I’m watching your nose.”

“And I’ll tell her I’m wrinkling it.”

“She’ll want to know what the king would think of our behavior.”

“I’ll tell her the queen watches every night while he wrinkles his nose seven times.”

The bell rang again.

“Your nose isn’t red now,” Areida said.

We ran for the house and met Manners Mistress at the door, on her way to search for us. The sight of her set us off again.

“Young ladies! Go to your room. What would the king say?”

In the hall, still giggling, we met Hattie.

“Having a nice time?”

“We were,” I answered.

“I won’t keep you then, but tomorrow, Ella, you must spend some time in the garden with me.”

*

“YOU SHOULDN’T associate with the lower orders, like that wench from Ayortha,” she said the next evening.

“Areida is a higher order than you are, and I choose my own friends.”

“My dear, my dear. I hate to cause you grief, but you must end your friendship with her.”

HATTIE RETURNED to the house, but I stayed outside. I watched her leave, hating her way of walking — a mince combined with a waddle. She stopped to pick a flower and lift it to her nose, posturing for me.

I sat on a bench and stared down at the pebbled walk. In all the times I’d imagined the miseries she could inflict on me, I’d never imagined this. I’d thought of injuries, and I’d imagined terrible embarrassment, but I’d never thought of this kind of hurt.

Areida was in our room now, waiting to give me a lesson in Ayorthaian. I remained seated. I couldn’t face her.

Was there a way to stop being her friend without hurting her? I could pretend I had suddenly become mute so I wouldn’t be able to talk to her. But in that circumstance she’d be my friend as much as ever. She’d talk to me, and we’d invent a sign language, which would be great fun. And that wouldn’t be ending our friendship, so the curse wouldn’t let me do it. Besides, a mistress would be sure to say, “Speak, Ella,” and I would have to.

I could announce I’d taken a vow of loneliness. But Areida would be hurt that I’d taken such a vow.

If only Mother hadn’t forbidden me to tell about the curse. But then again, explaining would be an act of friendship, which the curse also wouldn’t allow.

The bell rang calling us to bed. I was late again, but tonight there was no Areida to joke with about our tardiness.

In our room, she sat on my bed, completing a letter for Writing Mistress.

“Where were you? I’ve been reviewing the imperative.”

“I’m tired,” I said, not answering the question.

Perhaps I did look tired, or troubled, because she didn’t press me. She only patted my arm and said, “We can study imperatives tomorrow.”

In bed, I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to savor the last few hours before I had to hurt her.

Sleep on, Areida. Be my friend for one more night.

A long vigil lay ahead. I pulled out my magic book. It opened to a letter from Dame Olga to her daughters.

_My sweet darlings,

Your poor mother is desolate without you.

I attended a cotillion last night at the palace. I wore my wine-colored taffeta gown and my ruby pendant. But it was for naught. The company was thin because King Jerrold is away, although Prince Charmont was there. That charming man, Sir Peter, wasn’t there either. I was desolate. I understand he is off traveling and becoming richer, I imagine. I wish him well and will be first to pay my respects on his return._

Three pages followed describing Dame Olga’s social calendar and her wardrobe. In closing, she remembered she had daughters and was writing to them.

_I hope both of you are eating well to keep up your strength. Olive, pray remember not to eat Madame Edith’s flowers. If you were to sicken or die, I should be desolate. Hattie, I hope you have found a trustworthy servant to dress your hair. Madame E. promised it could be arranged.

I expect the two of you are amazingly finished by now. But do not toil too hard, my dears. If you can sing and dance charmingly, eat daintily, and sew a little, you will be fine ladies and I shall be proud of you.

My sweets, the carriage has arrived. I am in my lemon silk calling gown, and I must fly.

Your adoring mother,

Dame Olga_

*

WHY WAS a trustworthy servant necessary to dress Hattie’s hair? I compared the luxuriant tresses of Hattie and her mother with Olive’s thin curls, and I remembered Hattie’s attack on my hair after she smelled the bogweed. I laughed out loud. Hattie and Dame Olga wore wigs!

Thank you, Dame Olga. I hadn’t expected to laugh tonight. I turned the page.

On the verso was an illustration of a centaur colt — Apple, I was sure — nuzzling a young man — Char. The colt was a beauty. His hide was deep brown with a tan mane and an irregular tan star on his chest. Skinny and leggy, he was made for speed, although he was too young to bear a rider. Would he ever really be mine?

On the right was a letter from Char to his father.

_Dear Father,

I hope this finds you safe and well. My mother and my sister and brothers are in good heath, as am I.

Since I received instructions to join you, I have been filled with gratitude for your confidence in me. The knights you have chosen to follow me are stout fellows and bear the command of a stripling with good humor. My mother worries, but I tell her they will not let harm befall me.

In truth, Father, I am so stirred up by the thought of my first military duty — even if it is only reviewing border troops — that I hardly hear my good mother. Who knows? Perhaps the ogres will raid and there will be a skirmish. I do not fear injury, only that I may not acquit myself well._

Skirmishes with ogres! How could there not be danger?

Char continued to describe the visit of a trade delegation and the same ball that Dame Olga had attended, although he didn’t mention what he had worn.

Near the bottom of the page, my name appeared.

I am training a centaur colt for a lass I know. Her mother was the late Lady Eleanor. I admire the daughter, Ella, but she has gone to finishing school, where I fear she will be made less admirable. What do they teach in such places? Sewing and curtsying? It is a great distance to go to learn such paltry tricks.

Would he stop liking me now that I was no longer clumsy? I had never enjoyed being a small elephant and hadn’t mourned the loss till now.

Would he even be alive to stop liking me, or would he be an ogre’s lunch?

The next page was a letter from Father to his bailiff.

_Dear James,

The post coach comes rarely to the elves’ Forest, but it came today. I am still with the greenies. The trading has been disappointing. They have not so much as showed me an Agulen no matter what I bring out to tempt them. Their chief trader, Slannen, knows little about bargaining. He gave me three vases in exchange for a gnomish copper stewpot, and the same for a simple wooden flute._

Below were three pages of trades and sales. He closed with his intentions.

I am making for Uaaxee’s farm. You may remember Uaaxee, the giantess who entrusted her turnip harvest to me last year. On October 15, she will marry off her daughter and I shall be there. I should like to see a giant’s wedding. The ritual is said to be peculiar. Moreover, several fairies are likely to be present. They say hardly a wedding or birth takes place without at least one in attendance. If I can persuade a few to reveal themseves, I may be able to pick up some fairy-made trifles.

I swallowed. My mouth had gone dry. Mandy had never told me that fairies liked to go to weddings and births. But she and Lucinda had both been present when I was born.

Perhaps Lucinda would go to the giants. It was the first time I’d ever known a definite place where she might be — where I might be too, if I could get there. She might even be in a generous frame of mind, especially if she had just cast a well-meant, horrible spell. Perhaps she’d be so pleased that she’d release me from mine if I begged her to.

I hadn’t promised Father I would stay at finishing school, only that I would go. I could leave whenever I wanted. And by leaving, I’d never have to take another order from Hattie. Areida would still think I was her friend. And if I succeeded with Lucinda, I still could be.

How late was it? How much of the night was left for travel? I stood up, then sat down again. How far was Uaaxee’s farm? The wedding was less than two weeks off Could I get there in time?

Frantically, I riffled the pages of my book, hoping to be vouchsafed a map. There. But it was the same one I’d looked at in the carriage on the way to finishing school — of Frell, and no use to me now.

No matter. I’d get directions somehow.

In five minutes, my carpetbag was packed with a few essentials: Tonic, my magic book, my dictionary, a shawl, and little else. After a long look at Areida’s sleeping form, I left.

I paused before the door to the Daisy Room, then went in. With quiet steps, I approached Hattie’s bed. She frowned in her sleep and mumbled. I understood only one word: “royal.”

Her wig was askew. Neat-fingered as I had become, I was able to lift it off without waking her. Now, what to do with it? If I threw it into the dying fire, the smell might wake someone. I could drape it over the head of the china cat that adorned the mantelpiece, but if Hattie woke early, she could rescue it before anyone saw.

So I took it with me, a trophy.

I SLIPPED through the sleeping house as silently as a needle through lace. Outside, I waved farewell to the sleeping topiary.

As I walked, the sky lightened. On the edge of Jenn, I gave a baker the first sale of the day, two currant muffins and two loaves of traveler’s bread in exchange for Hattie’s wig, which he declared the finest he’d ever seen.

He’d never heard of Uaaxee but said there were several giant farms “up north.”

“I hear they bake cookies as wide as my waist,” he said.

He drew a map for me in flour on his pastry board. The road would fork after I left jenn. The right-hand fork led back to Frell. The left fork was the one I wanted. My first landmark would be the elves’ Forest. After the Forest I would come to another fork. The road to the left,
which I was not to take,
led to the Fens, where the ogres lived. The road on the right would take me to the giants. When the cows became as big as barns, I would be there.

It didn’t seem far on the pastry board. My fingers could travel the distance in a trice. The baker thought the trip would take five or six days by coach.

“How long do you think it would take to walk?”

“Walking?” He started to laugh. “On foot? Alone? With ogres and bandits roaming the road?”

Beyond Jenn, I left the road, following it, but too far away to be seen from it. I didn’t fear pursuit by Madame Edith, who would probably conceal my disappearance for as long as possible in hopes I might return. The baker’s worries about ogres and bandits I thought exaggerated, since a solitary traveler would hardly be worthwhile prey. However, I was wary of strangers. With my curse, I had to be.

I wondered if I would meet Char on his way to the Fens. I liked thinking he might be near, but whether he was ahead of me or behind, or whether he had taken this route at all, I had no idea, and I wished my magic book had told me more.

The road was little trafficked, and I was too happy about my escape to feel much fear. I was free of orders. If I wanted to eat my breakfast under a maple tree and watch the day grow between its leaves, I could — and did. If I wanted to skip or hop or run and slide on dew-wet leaves, I could — and did. And when the mood took me, I whistled or recited poems that I made up on the spot.

I spent two glorious days this way, the best since before Mother had died. I saw deer and hares, and once, at twilight, I swear I saw a phoenix rise, trailing smoke.

On the third day, I began to despair about reaching the giants in time. I hadn’t even come to the elves’ Forest. If I had any chance of getting to the wedding, I should have passed the Forest on the second day, unless the baker had been mistaken about the distance from the Forest to the giants. Perhaps they were much closer to each other than he thought.