Stolen Songbird
Page 11
Lie.
“Yes,” I mumbled, not having to fake my mortification.
“Good. You humans are as fertile as rabbits – perhaps a child is the key.”
Magic jerked my chin up. “They’ve predicted a large number of events in my day, girl,” she said. “They’ve never been wrong before. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nodded, although I didn’t. Who were they? Wasn’t it the Duchesse who predicted the future?
“Good. Now why don’t you get dressed and go into the city. Buy yourself something pretty.”
“Is it safe, Your Grace?” Élise asked. “The riots…”
“Perfectly safe,” the Duchesse snapped. “The King has decreed that anyone who harms her will suffer the most extreme of punishments. The law secures her well-being. Besides, presenting her as a princess will demonstrate our continued faith in the accuracy of the prophesy. Help keep the mob quiet for a time.”
“I haven’t got any coin,” I mumbled. Nor did I think a new pair of shoes would compensate for the risk of a mob of angry trolls tearing me limb from limb. My gran always said it was the nature of people to resent those who had more than them. Parading me around in fancy clothes didn’t seem like the best way to earn me popularity.
The Duchesse smiled. “You are a princess now, Cécile. You have unlimited credit everywhere in the city. One of the girls will show you the best shops.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Élise murmured. “I heard a shipment of fine fabrics arrived this morning – perhaps her ladyship would like a new gown made.”
I glanced at the rainbow of dresses Tristan had scattered through the room. Why I’d need another was beyond me. Looking pretty would not keep me safe. A frown creased my brow, and I traced the silver tattoo lacing my fingers. At least I would be a well-dressed corpse.
“An excellent idea.” The Duchesse snapped her fingers. “Now leave us alone for a moment.” The girls darted out of the room.
“You’ve spirit in you, Cécile, just as I knew you would. No doubt you’ve put a substantial amount of thought towards how you might escape. Let me save you the effort – escape from Trollus is an impossibility. In my opinion, there are two ways this can go for you: either you curl up on the floor and wait to die, or you live each day for all it can give you. Little will be denied you here. Clothing, jewels, delicacies from the continent, are all yours for the taking.” She tilted her head. “An education, if you desire. Perhaps further training in the arts. You can become a great woman, Cécile. Or you can remain a prisoner. The choice is yours.”
“I understand,” I said, and watched as the Queen glided from the room. I could have everything in the world but the one thing I wanted. The Duchesse was wrong about my having only two options. I wouldn’t lie down and die, but neither would I give up on obtaining my liberty. I would live each day and fight for what mattered most: my freedom.
The city was marred with innumerable signs of the prior night’s riots. Everywhere I looked, there were grey-clad trolls collecting piles of shattered glass or loading chunks of broken rock into wagons that others pushed down the streets. Although the telltale troll-light hung over each troll’s head, they were all doing the work manually with brooms and shovels. “Wouldn’t it be faster to use magic?” I asked, clutching my glowing wineglass to my chest. No amount of cajoling on Élise’s part could have convinced me to leave it behind.
Élise glanced at the workers. “Certainly. If they had enough power to manage it. Which they don’t.”
“Oh,” I replied, trying not to stare at their downturned heads as we passed.
Dust motes hung in the light of the multitude of lamps, and the small amount of sun that peered in through the hole in the rock above was made all the more faint by the haze. The trolls in the streets hurried about in twos and threes, expressions alert and wary. There were not many of them considering the size of the city, but to me, Trollus seemed overcrowded and stifling, as though each individual needed ten times his physical space. It was a corked bottle ready to blow at any moment – the witch’s curse must be powerful indeed to keep it all contained.
The worst of it all, though, was the way the trolls reacted to my presence. I had expected dark looks, nasty comments, or even the odd rotten fruit tossed my direction. But after a few near collisions that required me to leap out of the way or risk being knocked down, I realized the trolls were content to pretend I did not exist. I was flanked by two hulking guardsmen whom Élise called Guillaume and Albert, but they ignored me as well, seemingly content to discuss what they’d eaten the prior evening and what they hoped would be served at tonight’s dinner hour. Even the dressmakers ignored me, directing all their questions to Élise. Which seemed to be going right to her head, because as time passed, she grew more and more bold and less deferential, until I started to doubt which of us was the servant.
“They are acting as though it’s all my fault,” I grumbled as we exited the shop where yet another troll had refused to acknowledge my existence. “It isn’t as though I was the one who cursed you lot to an eternity stuck in a hole.”
Élise made a face. “Don’t be ignorant – they are well aware of how powerless you are.”
“How powerless you are, my lady,” I corrected, giving her a sweet smile.
“You are very flippant for someone in your position, my lady,” she replied wryly. “I could hang you upside down from your ankles if I were so inclined.”
“Be my guest. No one would notice, and my feet feel like raw meat in these blasted shoes.”
“Oh, they’d notice,” she muttered. She began to speak very quietly, keeping an eye on our trailing guards, who seemed far more interested in the pink-frosted cakes they had purchased than in what we were saying. “The Montignys – the royal family,” she began, “they shocked everyone by bonding His Highness to you. Everyone expected them to lock you up in a closet when the bonding failed to break the curse, but instead they have you parading about in front of everyone as though you actually are a princess.” She chuckled softly. “Now they’re all waiting to see how the great houses react – whether they will support your existence or not.” She gestured discreetly at the passing trolls. “They aren’t ignoring you – they are merely waiting to see what side of the table those they are sworn to will sit at.”
“When will that be?” I asked, looking over my shoulder at the women who had just walked by.
“Soon,” Élise said. “Though you might find yourself wishing they had taken their time. Now enough questions. Put your head up. Walk like you belong here.”
Ignoring my complaints, Élise paraded me up and down the streets and in and out of shops until my blisters popped. The only advantage the excursion provided was that it allowed me to quickly gain my bearings within the city. The labyrinth gate was on the northwest side of the river, as was the palace and what looked to be the homes of wealthier citizens. While it was too dark for me to see where the crest of the valley met the rock above, Élise explained that the rubble of destroyed homes had been cleared in centuries past, and any openings to the labyrinth sealed up with stone and mortar.
“Why?” I asked, curious as to why they would isolate themselves any further than necessary.
“To keep the sluag out,” she said. “But they are always trying to find ways into the city, and sometimes they break through. Their venom is deadly – even to one of us.”
I shivered, remembering the massive white bulk of the monster rearing up in the dark.
“You needn’t worry yourself… my lady. It is a rare occurrence, and every household keeps a steel sluag spear, just in case. There is one in the corner of His Highness’s room, if you are interested in examining one of them.”
“Doesn’t the magic that holds the rocks up keep them out?” I asked.
“The tree?” Élise glanced at me sharply. “No. It doesn’t.”
“Why is it called a tree?”
“A legacy from what it used to look like,” she gestured upwards. “Single trunk with branches spreading out.”
“Oh.” I frowned at the black cavernous space looming above our heads. “What does it look like now?”
“Not like a tree. It is a far more complicated structure in its current form.”
“Where does the magic come from?”
“You mean who,” she replied, and I blinked. “Magic comes from within,” she explained. “So what you should have asked is who the magic comes from.”
I opened my mouth to ask just that question when Élise interrupted me. “This is Artisan’s Row,” she said. “Perhaps you would like to go in to view some of their work?” She gestured towards the entrance to one of the shops.
I nodded, although her tone implied it was more of an order than a question. I didn’t want to waste my time inside any of the stores –I wanted to go to the base of the valley. There had to be a way for the river to flow out of the city and to the ocean, and if there was a way for water to escape, perhaps there was a way for me to get out as well. But Élise seemed intent on my seeing the contents of the shop, and it was probably better if she believed that I was aimlessly following her through the city with no purpose of my own.
A bell chimed as I pushed open the door and stepped into the well-lit shop. The proprietor curtseyed deeply, but I focused on the woman who did not. Brown eyes regarded me with curiosity.
“You aren’t a troll!” I blurted out.
“Neither,” the woman replied, “are you.”
The proprietor of the store grimaced but interestingly, didn’t ignore me. “My lady, this is Esmeralda Montoya. She is a trader of fine goods.”
One of the woman’s eyebrows arched upwards. “My lady? I must say, I’ve heard the trolls call us humans any number of things, but generally speaking, none of them are so polite. You must be the girl they bonded to His Royal Highness.”
I gave a faint nod.
“By choice?”
“No.”
Esmeralda shook her head, her brow furrowing. Although she was dressed in men’s clothing, the fabrics looked expensive and she wore no small amount of jewelry. Her business with the trolls was clearly a lucrative one. “And now you are caught in the midst of the rival politics of a place you probably didn’t even know existed,” she said.
“I was supposed to break the curse,” I said. “Otherwise, I know nothing of the politics involved.”
“When it comes to the curse, there are no politics, no sides,” she said. “It is the one thing that unites all trolls – their desire to be free of this place.”
I frowned, remembering Tristan’s reaction to our failure to break the curse, and how it had been decidedly contrary to the sentiment of the crowd. “If they are united,” I said, “then I fail to see how I can be caught in the middle.”
Esmeralda opened her mouth to speak, but the proprietor interrupted. “You overstep yourself, Montoya. One would have thought you’d have learned to keep your mouth shut by now.”
“So report me to the trade magister,” Esmeralda replied, not looking overly concerned about the prospect. “Though of what you’d accuse me is a mystery to me.”
“Meddling.” The troll planted her hands on her hips.
“I hadn’t realized that was a crime.” One corner of Esmeralda’s mouth quirked up. “Why don’t you do me a favor, Reagan, and leave us to our conversation.”
“A favor?” The troll’s face perked up. “In exchange for what?”
“Ill-nurtured harpy!” Esmeralda swore. “The pox on you lot and your favors. What do you want?”
Reagan grinned. “The pox is of little concern to me, Montoya.” She rubbed her hands together. “A promise that you will grant me a moderate-sized favor of my choosing.”
“A small favor.”
The troll shook her head. “She is the wife of the heir to the throne. This is no small thing.” A dark smile touched her lips. “His Majesty has hanged you humans for less.”
I gasped, but Esmeralda didn’t blink. “A quick enough death, in the scheme of things.”
“For you, perhaps,” Reagan said, rubbing her hands together. “You are a fragile creature, human.” Her gaze flickered past me to Élise. “Tell me, girl, how long did it take for the last half-breed to die? How long did he hang from the noose, his better half clinging to life while his human half dragged him towards death?”
The silence grew and I shuddered.
“Six days,” Reagan said, answering her own question. “And I rather think one of his fellow sympathizers put him out of his misery.” She chuckled. “In fact, I think I’ve reconsidered. It will take a large favor for me to excuse myself from this conversation.”
Esmeralda’s voice was grim. “And buy your silence that a conversation took place at all.”
The troll considered the arrangement and nodded. “Done.”
A prickle of power ran across my skin and, without another word, she hobbled awkwardly towards the back room, bright yellow skirts brushing against the cane she used.
“You should have negotiated specifics,” Élise said tonelessly. “Leaving it open-ended was a large concession.”
The whole exchange was disturbing and bizarre to me, which must have been apparent to the others by the expression on my face. “Trolls value favors even more than they value gold,” Esmeralda explained. “When they make a promise to do something, they must fulfill it, no matter what the cost to them, which is why they almost never promise anything for nothing.”
“Yes,” I mumbled, not having to fake my mortification.
“Good. You humans are as fertile as rabbits – perhaps a child is the key.”
Magic jerked my chin up. “They’ve predicted a large number of events in my day, girl,” she said. “They’ve never been wrong before. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nodded, although I didn’t. Who were they? Wasn’t it the Duchesse who predicted the future?
“Good. Now why don’t you get dressed and go into the city. Buy yourself something pretty.”
“Is it safe, Your Grace?” Élise asked. “The riots…”
“Perfectly safe,” the Duchesse snapped. “The King has decreed that anyone who harms her will suffer the most extreme of punishments. The law secures her well-being. Besides, presenting her as a princess will demonstrate our continued faith in the accuracy of the prophesy. Help keep the mob quiet for a time.”
“I haven’t got any coin,” I mumbled. Nor did I think a new pair of shoes would compensate for the risk of a mob of angry trolls tearing me limb from limb. My gran always said it was the nature of people to resent those who had more than them. Parading me around in fancy clothes didn’t seem like the best way to earn me popularity.
The Duchesse smiled. “You are a princess now, Cécile. You have unlimited credit everywhere in the city. One of the girls will show you the best shops.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Élise murmured. “I heard a shipment of fine fabrics arrived this morning – perhaps her ladyship would like a new gown made.”
I glanced at the rainbow of dresses Tristan had scattered through the room. Why I’d need another was beyond me. Looking pretty would not keep me safe. A frown creased my brow, and I traced the silver tattoo lacing my fingers. At least I would be a well-dressed corpse.
“An excellent idea.” The Duchesse snapped her fingers. “Now leave us alone for a moment.” The girls darted out of the room.
“You’ve spirit in you, Cécile, just as I knew you would. No doubt you’ve put a substantial amount of thought towards how you might escape. Let me save you the effort – escape from Trollus is an impossibility. In my opinion, there are two ways this can go for you: either you curl up on the floor and wait to die, or you live each day for all it can give you. Little will be denied you here. Clothing, jewels, delicacies from the continent, are all yours for the taking.” She tilted her head. “An education, if you desire. Perhaps further training in the arts. You can become a great woman, Cécile. Or you can remain a prisoner. The choice is yours.”
“I understand,” I said, and watched as the Queen glided from the room. I could have everything in the world but the one thing I wanted. The Duchesse was wrong about my having only two options. I wouldn’t lie down and die, but neither would I give up on obtaining my liberty. I would live each day and fight for what mattered most: my freedom.
The city was marred with innumerable signs of the prior night’s riots. Everywhere I looked, there were grey-clad trolls collecting piles of shattered glass or loading chunks of broken rock into wagons that others pushed down the streets. Although the telltale troll-light hung over each troll’s head, they were all doing the work manually with brooms and shovels. “Wouldn’t it be faster to use magic?” I asked, clutching my glowing wineglass to my chest. No amount of cajoling on Élise’s part could have convinced me to leave it behind.
Élise glanced at the workers. “Certainly. If they had enough power to manage it. Which they don’t.”
“Oh,” I replied, trying not to stare at their downturned heads as we passed.
Dust motes hung in the light of the multitude of lamps, and the small amount of sun that peered in through the hole in the rock above was made all the more faint by the haze. The trolls in the streets hurried about in twos and threes, expressions alert and wary. There were not many of them considering the size of the city, but to me, Trollus seemed overcrowded and stifling, as though each individual needed ten times his physical space. It was a corked bottle ready to blow at any moment – the witch’s curse must be powerful indeed to keep it all contained.
The worst of it all, though, was the way the trolls reacted to my presence. I had expected dark looks, nasty comments, or even the odd rotten fruit tossed my direction. But after a few near collisions that required me to leap out of the way or risk being knocked down, I realized the trolls were content to pretend I did not exist. I was flanked by two hulking guardsmen whom Élise called Guillaume and Albert, but they ignored me as well, seemingly content to discuss what they’d eaten the prior evening and what they hoped would be served at tonight’s dinner hour. Even the dressmakers ignored me, directing all their questions to Élise. Which seemed to be going right to her head, because as time passed, she grew more and more bold and less deferential, until I started to doubt which of us was the servant.
“They are acting as though it’s all my fault,” I grumbled as we exited the shop where yet another troll had refused to acknowledge my existence. “It isn’t as though I was the one who cursed you lot to an eternity stuck in a hole.”
Élise made a face. “Don’t be ignorant – they are well aware of how powerless you are.”
“How powerless you are, my lady,” I corrected, giving her a sweet smile.
“You are very flippant for someone in your position, my lady,” she replied wryly. “I could hang you upside down from your ankles if I were so inclined.”
“Be my guest. No one would notice, and my feet feel like raw meat in these blasted shoes.”
“Oh, they’d notice,” she muttered. She began to speak very quietly, keeping an eye on our trailing guards, who seemed far more interested in the pink-frosted cakes they had purchased than in what we were saying. “The Montignys – the royal family,” she began, “they shocked everyone by bonding His Highness to you. Everyone expected them to lock you up in a closet when the bonding failed to break the curse, but instead they have you parading about in front of everyone as though you actually are a princess.” She chuckled softly. “Now they’re all waiting to see how the great houses react – whether they will support your existence or not.” She gestured discreetly at the passing trolls. “They aren’t ignoring you – they are merely waiting to see what side of the table those they are sworn to will sit at.”
“When will that be?” I asked, looking over my shoulder at the women who had just walked by.
“Soon,” Élise said. “Though you might find yourself wishing they had taken their time. Now enough questions. Put your head up. Walk like you belong here.”
Ignoring my complaints, Élise paraded me up and down the streets and in and out of shops until my blisters popped. The only advantage the excursion provided was that it allowed me to quickly gain my bearings within the city. The labyrinth gate was on the northwest side of the river, as was the palace and what looked to be the homes of wealthier citizens. While it was too dark for me to see where the crest of the valley met the rock above, Élise explained that the rubble of destroyed homes had been cleared in centuries past, and any openings to the labyrinth sealed up with stone and mortar.
“Why?” I asked, curious as to why they would isolate themselves any further than necessary.
“To keep the sluag out,” she said. “But they are always trying to find ways into the city, and sometimes they break through. Their venom is deadly – even to one of us.”
I shivered, remembering the massive white bulk of the monster rearing up in the dark.
“You needn’t worry yourself… my lady. It is a rare occurrence, and every household keeps a steel sluag spear, just in case. There is one in the corner of His Highness’s room, if you are interested in examining one of them.”
“Doesn’t the magic that holds the rocks up keep them out?” I asked.
“The tree?” Élise glanced at me sharply. “No. It doesn’t.”
“Why is it called a tree?”
“A legacy from what it used to look like,” she gestured upwards. “Single trunk with branches spreading out.”
“Oh.” I frowned at the black cavernous space looming above our heads. “What does it look like now?”
“Not like a tree. It is a far more complicated structure in its current form.”
“Where does the magic come from?”
“You mean who,” she replied, and I blinked. “Magic comes from within,” she explained. “So what you should have asked is who the magic comes from.”
I opened my mouth to ask just that question when Élise interrupted me. “This is Artisan’s Row,” she said. “Perhaps you would like to go in to view some of their work?” She gestured towards the entrance to one of the shops.
I nodded, although her tone implied it was more of an order than a question. I didn’t want to waste my time inside any of the stores –I wanted to go to the base of the valley. There had to be a way for the river to flow out of the city and to the ocean, and if there was a way for water to escape, perhaps there was a way for me to get out as well. But Élise seemed intent on my seeing the contents of the shop, and it was probably better if she believed that I was aimlessly following her through the city with no purpose of my own.
A bell chimed as I pushed open the door and stepped into the well-lit shop. The proprietor curtseyed deeply, but I focused on the woman who did not. Brown eyes regarded me with curiosity.
“You aren’t a troll!” I blurted out.
“Neither,” the woman replied, “are you.”
The proprietor of the store grimaced but interestingly, didn’t ignore me. “My lady, this is Esmeralda Montoya. She is a trader of fine goods.”
One of the woman’s eyebrows arched upwards. “My lady? I must say, I’ve heard the trolls call us humans any number of things, but generally speaking, none of them are so polite. You must be the girl they bonded to His Royal Highness.”
I gave a faint nod.
“By choice?”
“No.”
Esmeralda shook her head, her brow furrowing. Although she was dressed in men’s clothing, the fabrics looked expensive and she wore no small amount of jewelry. Her business with the trolls was clearly a lucrative one. “And now you are caught in the midst of the rival politics of a place you probably didn’t even know existed,” she said.
“I was supposed to break the curse,” I said. “Otherwise, I know nothing of the politics involved.”
“When it comes to the curse, there are no politics, no sides,” she said. “It is the one thing that unites all trolls – their desire to be free of this place.”
I frowned, remembering Tristan’s reaction to our failure to break the curse, and how it had been decidedly contrary to the sentiment of the crowd. “If they are united,” I said, “then I fail to see how I can be caught in the middle.”
Esmeralda opened her mouth to speak, but the proprietor interrupted. “You overstep yourself, Montoya. One would have thought you’d have learned to keep your mouth shut by now.”
“So report me to the trade magister,” Esmeralda replied, not looking overly concerned about the prospect. “Though of what you’d accuse me is a mystery to me.”
“Meddling.” The troll planted her hands on her hips.
“I hadn’t realized that was a crime.” One corner of Esmeralda’s mouth quirked up. “Why don’t you do me a favor, Reagan, and leave us to our conversation.”
“A favor?” The troll’s face perked up. “In exchange for what?”
“Ill-nurtured harpy!” Esmeralda swore. “The pox on you lot and your favors. What do you want?”
Reagan grinned. “The pox is of little concern to me, Montoya.” She rubbed her hands together. “A promise that you will grant me a moderate-sized favor of my choosing.”
“A small favor.”
The troll shook her head. “She is the wife of the heir to the throne. This is no small thing.” A dark smile touched her lips. “His Majesty has hanged you humans for less.”
I gasped, but Esmeralda didn’t blink. “A quick enough death, in the scheme of things.”
“For you, perhaps,” Reagan said, rubbing her hands together. “You are a fragile creature, human.” Her gaze flickered past me to Élise. “Tell me, girl, how long did it take for the last half-breed to die? How long did he hang from the noose, his better half clinging to life while his human half dragged him towards death?”
The silence grew and I shuddered.
“Six days,” Reagan said, answering her own question. “And I rather think one of his fellow sympathizers put him out of his misery.” She chuckled. “In fact, I think I’ve reconsidered. It will take a large favor for me to excuse myself from this conversation.”
Esmeralda’s voice was grim. “And buy your silence that a conversation took place at all.”
The troll considered the arrangement and nodded. “Done.”
A prickle of power ran across my skin and, without another word, she hobbled awkwardly towards the back room, bright yellow skirts brushing against the cane she used.
“You should have negotiated specifics,” Élise said tonelessly. “Leaving it open-ended was a large concession.”
The whole exchange was disturbing and bizarre to me, which must have been apparent to the others by the expression on my face. “Trolls value favors even more than they value gold,” Esmeralda explained. “When they make a promise to do something, they must fulfill it, no matter what the cost to them, which is why they almost never promise anything for nothing.”
