No Place for Magic (2 page)

"I couldn't agree more," said Grandfather. "Why, I remember when Emma was trying to find Hubert's medallion and . . ."

A sparrow darted through the garden, skimming the tops of Grandmother's roses. It landed on the rock-candy sundial and twittered a greeting. Herald, Grandmother's orange tabby, licked his lips and wiggled his back end as he prepared to pounce. As the sparrow opened his beak, Herald twitched his tail and leaped.

"Not so fast," said Grandfather, thrusting out his arm and waving his fingers. A wind sprang up that only the cat could feel, blowing him midleap into the rosebushes. Yowling, Herald clawed his way out of the roses and took off across the yard. Grandfather chuckled. "I don't think that cat likes me."

The sparrow bobbed its head. "Your Highnesses," it said. "Lady Grassina requests the pleasure of your company in the swamp behind the castle. She says that Princess Emeralda will know where to go." Having delivered its message, the sparrow took off, going back the way it had come. Grassina must have used a spell on the bird to make it speak the human tongue, because even my mother had looked as if she could understand what it was saying.

Grandmother had been smoothing icing with her hand before attaching the first gumdrop. "What do you suppose she wants?" she said, wiping her fingers on her apron.

When I saw that they were all looking my way, I shrugged. "I have no idea. She hasn't told me a thing."

"Does she expect us to go now?" asked my mother. "She can't order us around. We're in the middle of this."

"Well, I'm going," announced Grandmother. "I want to see what this is about. Herald, you keep an eye on the house."

An orange-striped tail dangled from the leafy branch of a crab-apple tree at the edge of the yard. The only sign that Herald had heard her was the angry twitch of the tip of his tail.

My mother dropped the gumdrops she was holding back into the basket. "If you're going, there's no use in the rest of us staying here. We'll take my carriage."

"I prefer to fly," said Grandmother.

"And leave me to ride by myself? I thought you liked my company, Mother."

Grandmother sighed. "Of course I do, Chartreuse."

"Then that's settled. We'll all take the carriage, except, er, Father, if you don't mind . . ."

"Don't worry, Chartreuse. I know there isn't room for me."

Two

T
he ride to the swamp was only slightly less unpleasant than the ride to the cottage had been. The driver of the coach was more familiar with the changes in the road and was able to miss some of the deeper ruts. Although my mother didn't say anything at first, I knew that the spots of color on her normally pale cheeks meant that she was angry.

"Doesn't it bother you that Grassina is being so inconsiderate?" she finally blurted.

My grandmother had looked composed with her hands folded in her lap as she gazed out the window. When she turned to face us, she seemed surprised at the question. "Why, no, not at all. I'm sure that your sister wouldn't have asked us to come on a whim. I don't know why she wants us there, but whatever it is, it must be important."

The spots on Mother's cheeks flamed as she bit her lip. "You're taking her side, just the way you did when we were girls."

Grandmother nodded. "Yes, I am, but I take your side when you aren't around and your sister questions something that you do. I always give my girls the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry the curse turned me into a horrible mother for all those years."

'You take my side, too?" my mother said as if that was all she'd heard.

"Of course," said Grandmother. "You just aren't there to hear it."

"Oh," Mother said. Although she didn't speak again until we reached the swamp, the bright spots faded from her cheeks.

I understood why Grassina had said that I would know the place she meant. My aunt and I were the only people from the castle who visited the swamp, and we'd been exploring it for years. But if this was as important as her summons made it seem, there was only one place we'd find her. She'd be at the pond where I'd first met Eadric and where she had changed Haywood from an otter back into a human.

We left the coach at the road as close as we could get to the swamp and walked the rest of the way. My mother was horrified, of course, because it meant getting her shoes dirty. She tried to keep her hem out of the muck when we reached soggier ground, but she didn't have much luck and finally gave up altogether, letting her hem drag wherever it would.

I was pleased to see that I was right about Grassina's choice. She was waiting where I'd thought she'd be, with Haywood at her side. Eadric and my father were there, as well as another man I'd never seen before. It wasn't until I saw that he was wearing priest's robes that I began to understand why we'd been summoned.

The ceremony was lovely. Grassina and Haywood stood before Father Alphonse at the edge of the water while the rest of us watched from farther up the bank. Although she wore one of her ordinary moss-green gowns, had a simple wreath of ivy in her hair, and carried a plain bouquet of daisies, the glow of happiness that lit Grassina's face made her as lovely as any bride had ever looked. Haywood was wearing one of the tunics my aunt had embroidered for him. It was decorated with oak leaves and acorns in dark greens and warm browns that seemed remarkably lifelike. He looked proud and happy standing beside Grassina, reminding me of the expression he'd worn when he was an enchanted otter and they had just found each other again.

As far as I was concerned, only one thing marred the ceremony: my mother wouldn't stop complaining. Although she stood on the other side of Eadric and my grandparents, I could hear every word she said, and none of it was nice. I glanced at the rest of my family. From their expressions, my father seemed to be the only other person who could hear my mother's tirade. Unfortunately, I could hear her as clearly as the grasshoppers chirping in the field behind us, the birds calling in the trees across the river, the fish burbling in the river, and . . . It occurred to me that I hadn't undone the spell allowing me to hear the butterfly. Maybe that was why everything seemed so loud.

"She's so inconsiderate—having her wedding in a swamp!" said my mother as the priest talked about love and marriage. "What a deplorable site for a wedding ceremony! Demanding we go to this godforsaken place just because . . . Do you smell that? I just know this is a breeding ground for the plague. What is that on my shoe? Ooh, I think it's moving!"

I saw my father lower his head toward hers. "It's a slug, my dear. It won't hurt you."

"And do you, Haywood, take Grassina as your lawfully wedded
wife?" said Father Alphonse.

"And calling us here at the very last minute! She had to have known how much planning her wedding would have meant to me. If she'd given me fair warning, I could have had a dress made for her and a feast prepared. I could have sent out invitations, had the castle cleaned, gotten her a gift. . . . It's her fault that no one will have presents for her. If she'd waited a few days, although a week or two would have been better . . ."

"There, there, Chartreuse," said my father. "I'm sure she'll understand."

". . .
as long as you both shall live," said the priest.

Glancing pointedly at Queen Olivene and the ghost of my grandfather, my mother added, "And after they die, too, if they're anything like my parents."

At least they have a good marriage,
I thought, remembering how often my parents had refused to talk to each other when I was growing up.

Eadric squeezed my hand. "What a great wedding," he whispered to me as Grassina and Haywood exchanged rings. "I'd like a simple wedding like this. I could talk to the priest after the ceremony and ask him to stick around to do ours. We could even have it here in the swamp, if that's what you really want."

"We can't," I said, although I would have liked nothing better. "I want to get your parents' blessing first. If we're going to get married, I want to do it right."

"I don't think they're going to give it," said Eadric.

"You know what they were like when they left, and they never did reply to my letter."

"That's why I want to get their blessing. I don't want to cause a rift between you and your parents."

"If there's any rift, they were the ones who made it."

"Eadric, I mean it. Blessing first, then the wedding."

"All right, if we have to," he said, but he didn't look happy about it. "We'll go see them as soon as we can. I don't want to put off our wedding any longer."

". . .
man and wife," said Father Alphonse.

Grassina and Haywood kissed and everyone watched in silence. When they pulled away to look into each other's eyes, someone sobbed softly. I realized that my mother was crying.

We were starting to line up to congratulate the bride and groom when I heard splashing behind us in the swamp. Whoever it was seemed to be having a terrible time, tripping and falling, then swearing when he tried to get up. When I turned to see who it was, Eadric's eyes followed mine and his hand immediately flew to Ferdy, his singing sword. It was one of my father's guards slogging through the taller grass with his sodden hat in one hand and a mud-covered shoe in the other. He was pouring water out of the shoe when he stopped in front of my father, but he must have forgotten about it because he slapped himself in the face with it when he tried to salute. Sputtering, he used his sleeve to wipe muddy water from his eyes, then said, "Your Majesty, I've come to report that Prince Jorge has escaped from the dungeon. He was there when the guard last checked, but he's gone now and the door is still locked from the outside. I was stationed by the dungeon door, and I swear no one got past me."

"He must have bribed someone in the castle to let him out," growled my father. "When I find out who it was, I'll. . ."

"Actually, he could have gotten out any number of ways," said my grandmother. "And before you start threatening to lop off someone's head, why don't you let Emma and me take a look. I'm sure that between the two of us we can learn what actually happened."

Father nodded, aware of how useful a little magic might be, but from the look in his eyes I knew that if we couldn't find the answer, someone was bound to pay the price.

Eadric, too, looked grim. It was because of him that Jorge was in the dungeon. The prince hadn't been pleased that I'd preferred to be in the swamp rather than with him. Because I wouldn't marry Jorge, his father, King Beltran, had led his army into war against Greater Greensward. With Eadric's help, I'd used my magic to end the war, but Jorge still wasn't satisfied. When my father held the tournament for my sixteenth birthday, the prince had shown up disguised as one of the contestants and had done his best to kill Eadric. Fortunately, a health and safety spell had foiled his plan, and Jorge had been thrown into my father's dungeon.

Of course, the dungeon wasn't quite like it used to be. My mother had had it cleaned out when she married my father and had used it for storage since then. The guards had scrambled to get a cell ready for a prisoner, finally settling on one with a tiny window. The cell had been used to house old furniture in need of repair and was cluttered, but dry and relatively clean. Rather than make him wait while they emptied it completely, they'd left a few pieces behind. A cracked washtub, a rickety table, and my old bed with the broken leg weren't much, but they were more than most prisoners had.

We'd never intended to keep him there for long because custom decreed that the prince be released as soon as his ransom was paid. Although my father sent word to King Beltran that his son was in our dungeon, the old king was too stingy to send his ransom. Two months later the prince was still in the cell, gaining weight from Cook's good food and taunting the ghosts who dared stop in.

Although Father and Eadric both looked upset, I almost welcomed the news that Jorge had escaped. I'd been avoiding the dungeon for as long as he was in residence, and I missed my forays down there to visit my ghostly friends. Unfortunately, I knew that if Jorge were loose, he'd be up to no good as soon as he got the chance.

While my parents stayed to talk to the newlyweds, Grandmother and I went to the dungeon. Eadric and my grandfather insisted on going, too, which was just as well, because some of the shyer ghosts wouldn't talk to anyone except another ghost. We found the dungeon just as the guard had described. The door was locked from the outside, the straw mattress rumpled but unoccupied. While Eadric checked under the bed and in the washtub to make sure that Jorge wasn't hiding, I looked around for magical clues. Like most other things, magic leaves a kind of residue for those who know how to find it. Holding my hand out to feel for the energy, I wasn't surprised to find that magic had been used there in the very recent past.

"I found someone to talk to us," said my grandfather, floating back through the door.

Two ghosts followed him into the cell, making the space unbearably cold. I shivered and moved closer to Eadric's warmth while my grandmother pulled her wrap tight around her shoulders. I recognized both of the ghosts as acquaintances of my grandfather's to whom he had introduced me before. One was Hubert, the ghost of an elderly servant who had been thrown into the oubliette to die. He still wore the ghostly chain around his neck, less tarnished than the real one that had been buried along with his bones after the skeletons in the dungeon helped us. His companion was Sir Jarvis, a gentleman of the court from some century past whose noble bearing offset Hubert's aged stoop. The difference in their status would have kept them apart when they were alive, but as ghosts they had become the closest of friends.

"Do I know you?" Hubert said, peering up at me through his straggly hair.

"Of course you do, old man," said Sir Jarvis, patting Hubert's arm. "It's King Aldrid's granddaughter, Princess Emma. You met her a few months back, don't you remember?"

"No!" snapped Hubert. "Never met her before. Nor any of these other people. Although I'd like to meet this one," he said, winking at my white-haired grandmother.

My grandfather's outline seemed to grow until his head looked like it was about to touch the ceiling. "That is my wife, Queen Olivene!"

"Beg pardon, sir," said Hubert, cowering as he probably had when he was alive. "Didn't mean to offend."

"And no offense will be taken as long as you can provide us with some answers," said my grandmother. "Tell us, were either of you near this cell earlier today?"