Fortune's Fool (20 page)

Katya’s eyes sparkled. “How do you think I can speak to all of you?” she asked. “It is one of the things that
I
can do” She looked around at all of them. “Marina, Yulya, you are best suited to talking to the Jinn’s servants. You are both gentle and sweet—no one would suspect you of anything other than curiosity if you asked questions. See if there is some place odd that the Jinn is known to go to, or he has forbidden his servants to enter.”

The snow maiden and the swan maid nodded, and Yulya brightened. She liked talking to people, she was gregarious by nature.

“Lyuba, you can use that clever nose of yours, not only to see if there is an escape from this place, but if you find a place that the Jinn visits often in the castle.”

The Wolf-girl grinned. This just meant she could spend more time in her preferred shape. And Katya could not blame her. The Wolf was ever so much more powerful than the pretty human girl.

“Klava, there may be a way you can find the bottle. Did you not once hold it in your hands?”

Klava brightened. “Oh! I did! The Law of Contagion! That which once touched always touches! My magical abilities are not strong, but perhaps they will be enough!”

Katya nodded, decisively. “There, we all have important jobs. Since I can sense him, I will keep watch for the Jinn and warn you when he returns to the castle. And then—find the bottle and I can read it and tell you the Jinn’s name if it is there.”

Sasha drifted off to sleep feeling monumentally better. A good bath, a good meal, and the ministrations to his multiple bruises by—

No, not a comely wench, which he was just as happy about. A competent young fellow who seemed more than happy to rub some sort of pine-smelling green goo all over him in a very impersonal manner. Whatever it was, it worked wonders. He stopped aching and fell asleep immediately without really paying attention to his surroundings.

But when he woke up again, clearheaded, he wondered with a shock if he had been drugged, precisely because he had been so incurious. He couldn’t even remember what the
bed
looked like, much less the room….

Well the former was easily remedied; from the feel, it was a good featherbed, and there was a feather comforter over him, which was just as well as he was stark naked. He remembered getting undressed, but he didn’t remember getting into bed….

And there was a moment of panic as he made sure that he was
alone
in that bed.

The repercussions of bedding a supernatural creature were ones he really didn’t want to contemplate, and just about everything down here was probably magical or supernatural in one way or another.

The repercussions were especially critical since he had already pledged himself to another magical creature. Traditionally speaking…that was a recipe for disaster.

But he was alone and there was no sign that he had ever been anything but alone in this bed. One worry dealt with.

The bed was curtained; another good thing. He rolled over to the side, noting as he did so that although he still ached it was distantly, as if the bruises were a week, rather than a day, old. He parted the curtains slightly.

The room beyond was lit, dimly, by a single glowing globe in a sconce fastened to the rock wall. He couldn’t tell just what was in that globe that made it glow. A candle? An oil lamp? Something magical? A fire-bird feather? There was no way to tell. It didn’t flicker as a candle flame would, though. That in itself was interesting.

It wasn’t a large room, but it was luxurious by his standards. Just about everything seemed to be beautifully carved of stone. He had never seen such artistry in his life; it wasn’t that the carving was elaborate, because it wasn’t. It was that it was so very perfect. Every flowing line, the polish—perfect.

What wasn’t stone was metal, copper in fact, just as most of the stone was malachite, and the metal was as exquisitely wrought as the stone.

There was a stone bench and two copper chairs, a stone chest, a small stone table beside the bed, which itself was made, he now saw, of stone.

There were, of course, no windows. But there was a huge, highly polished, copper mirror. And on either side of the mirror, two narrow beaded hangings like the one in the throne room, but smaller. Each one showed half of the mountain.

The air felt slightly chilly, but there was no fire…but of course there was no fire. How could anyone get a chimney to reach down here? And you really didn’t need a fire, the temperature in a cave was always the same. But it would make those featherbeds and comforters and blankets a necessity.

He parted the curtains a bit more, noting that they were heavy velvet. Very luxurious. Either he was a most honored guest or the Queen was wealthy enough to supply even her flunkies with this sort of luxury.

Then again…this was a woman with a malachite throne….

There seemed to be a neatly folded pile of clothing on the bench. He slipped cautiously and quietly out of bed, and eased silently to the bench. For some reason—and he was not sure why—he didn’t want the “assistance” of any more of the Queen’s attendants. At least, not until he had clothing on.

This was not the clothing he had brought with him.

More luxury; a high-collared honey-colored shirt of heavy, dull silk that felt like cream against his skin, and a pair of amber-brown lamb’s wool trews, dark brown boots so beautifully made that the cobbler back home would have wept to see them. They fitted onto his feet like stockings, and the leather was butter-soft. There was even a heavy silk sash for his waist, fringed at the ends, cunningly woven in a pattern that combined the colors of his shirt, trews, and boots.

All of this only made his mind race as he tried to think out all the possible Traditional ways this could go. With a sinking heart, he reckoned that the most likely was—

“Ah, my lord Prince, I see that you are awake.”

He jumped at the voice behind him. The young man of last night had just come around from the other side of the bed, bearing a copper tray with covered dishes on it. The dishes were also copper. He sensed a theme here….

“I hope you are hungry.” The young man set the tray down on the bench, and frowned a little. “There was no need to dress yourself—”

“I’m used to tending to myself, actually,” Sasha replied, with a little laugh. “I’ve gotten into the habit of it.”

“Please sit, my lord,” the young man replied firmly. Sasha bowed to the inevitable. He knew this sort of very superior servant. There were Proprieties. They must be met. And if you didn’t meet the Proprieties…a servant like this one had a way of making you feel like a barbaric cad.

Breaking one’s fast here was evidently considered of grave importance, judging by the number of dishes on that tray….

The moment he sat down, the servant produced a tiny table and set it in front of him, whisked a napkin into his lap and laid out knife and fork. Then the parade of food began.

The manservant presented him first with a cup of hot tea and a small plate of blinis with sour cream and caviar. These were followed by cheese blintzes, boiled eggs wrapped in ham slices, thick slices of bread that the manservant buttered for him, then layered with a thick slathering of jam, sliced fruit, sausages, egg pie, berries in cream…all washed down with more tea. If this had been Baba Yaga’s hut, he would have been seriously alarmed at this point, but he was fairly certain no one here was planning on making dinner out of him.

It was a far cry even from breakfast at his own father’s table, which, while certainly generous, was nothing like this.

“There,” the manservant said, whisking away the last course and deftly removing the table—which, being solid copper, must have weighed more than Sasha cared to think about. “Now you are ready for Her Majesty.”

Well that had an ominous ring to it. Nevertheless, he stood up and straightened his shirt. He needed to find a way to persuade the Queen to help him—or at least, let him go. Katya was out there, somewhere, and she needed his help and she wasn’t getting it with him in here.

The manservant paused a moment. Sasha glanced at him. There was something about his expression—

He had something to say. The question was—was this one of those cases where, Traditionally, it would be disaster and an insult to ask a question? Or was it the case where it would be “help from an unexpected source”?

“You’ve been very kind to me,” Sasha said, diffidently. “I hope you know that I appreciate it. I know you haven’t just been doing your duty, you
care
about doing your duty and doing it well. That is a difficult thing, and very admirable.”

The manservant’s green face darkened with a blush. “Most would never notice, and those that do never give it a second thought, my lord,” he replied.

“Well the only reason I didn’t say something last night was because I was so tired I was drunk with exhaustion,” Sasha said, and laughed ruefully. “I may be a Prince by title, but I have to tell you, I am a peasant compared to your Queen. And all this—” he gestured broadly “—is not the sort of thing I am used to. I hope I haven’t offended you with my barbarous ways. You’ve probably got nobler blood than I do!”

Now the manservant chuckled dryly. “Blood is as blood will be, my lord, and it was and is a pleasure to serve you. But…” He paused. “It may not be my place to tell you this, and I am hoping you won’t take it amiss, my lord, but the Queen my mistress…is…. an easy woman to serve, but a difficult one for someone who aspires…higher….” He paused significantly. It was easy for Sasha to read between the lines. The manservant was warning him about the consequences of courting the Queen’s attention.

“I aspire to my Katya and no one else,” he said firmly. “Your lady may well be the most beautiful in all of the Kingdoms of the world, but it takes more than beauty to win a man’s heart.” He chuckled. “And love isn’t logical anyway.”

And his own heart warmed just thinking of Katya at that moment.

The manservant relaxed just a trifle. “Well then, my lord…the Queen my mistress is a most powerful creature as I am sure you are already aware. She rarely means anyone harm…but she is a creature of appetite and senses. She is fond of taking mortal lovers but…she is by her nature rather hard on them.” He sighed. “As I say, she rarely means anyone harm, but she can never really
love
a mortal. You are so short-lived, you see. The poor fellows generally end up breaking their hearts over her and coming to bad ends.”

Sasha shook his head in commiseration. “Ah, that’s just a tragedy all the way around. Sad for them, sad for you who has to watch it, and sad for the Queen who means them no harm.”

“Ah, sir,” the manservant said with relief. “You see how it is then. Well, follow me, and I will take you to the Audience Chamber. If you can amuse her or interest her, then there is much she could do for you in return.”

Definitely help from an unexpected source.

Sasha followed his guide down tunnel after tunnel, cut right out of the living rock and lit by more of the globes in copper sconces. Finally the servant paused and waved him through a doorway, beyond which Sasha could see a much smaller room than the chamber he had first encountered the Queen in.

She was on another malachite throne, this one draped and softened with a throw made of sable fur. Her attention was occupied by two men with the manner and demeanor of advisers, but she glanced at him and smiled before turning back to them. He waited patiently. Waiting patiently was a job that princes, as a whole, got very good at.

Eventually, whatever business was being transacted was quickly dealt with. The advisers bowed themselves out. Sasha was beckoned to, and he came forward and made the most elegant bow that he could. The Queen smiled.

“I imagine that this is all a bit overwhelming for you, Prince,” she said indulgently. “There are few mortals in the world that can match the wealth of my realm.”

“I would not imagine that there are any at all,” Sasha said, and grinned. “But it isn’t so much the wealth that I admire, it’s the art. Majesty, the littlest and most ordinary of furnishings here is a work of art! Your carvers must be not only gifted but inspired!”

He went on for a bit—quite genuinely—about his admiration for her craftsmen. But it was clear, at least to him, that she was trying to tempt him with her wealth. And truth to tell, yes, it was tempting. It would be a fine thing to live like this, surrounded by luxury and beauty, and every need or desire answered. A fine thing for a while.

But it would get boring very rapidly.

And in the meantime, what would he be
doing?
Nothing to make the world any better.

No, this was not the life for him, even if he hadn’t met Katya. As it was, he would rather roam the Kingdom for his father with her than live in luxury without her.

She stared at him clearly intrigued, reclining gracefully over one arm of her throne with her chin on her hand. “You astonish me, Prince. Most mortal men see only the value, not the beauty. But my people have had centuries to perfect not only their love of beauty, but their ability to create it. It is refreshing to meet with one who appreciates that.”

He bowed his head to her. “It is a sad thing that mortal or any other creature cannot see a thing of beauty without wanting to know what it can buy, or lusting to possess it so no one else can have it.”