Ella Enchanted Read online

  We came to the parrot cages, my other favorite place. The birds spoke all the languages of the earth: human foreign tongues and the exotic tongues of Gnomic, Elfian, Ogrese, and Abdegi (the language of the giants). I loved to imitate them, even though I didn’t know what they were saying.

  Simon, their keeper, was my friend. When he saw Char, he bowed low. Then he returned to feeding an orange bird.

  “This one’s new,” he said. “Speaks Gnomic and doesn’t shut up.”

  “,fwthchor evtoogh brzzay eerth ymmadboech evtoogh brzzaY” the parrot said.

  “,fwthchor evtoogh brzzay eerth ymmadboech evtoogh brzzaY” I repeated.

  “You speak Gnomic!” Char said.

  “I like to make the sounds. I only know what a few words mean.”

  “She does it just right, doesn’t she, your Highness?”

  “Fawithkor evtuk brizzay …” Char gave up. “It sounded better when you did it.”

  “,achoed dh eejh aphchuZ uochludwaacH” the parrot squawked.

  “Do you know what he said?” I asked Simon, who was able to translate occasionally.

  Simon shook his head. “Do you know, sir?”

  “No. It sounds like gargling.”

  Other visitors claimed Simon’s attention. “Excuse me,” he said.

  Char watched while I said farewell to each bird.

  “.iqkwo pwach brzzay ufedjeE” That was Gnomic for “Until we dig again.”

  “ahthOOn SSyng!” Ogrese for “Much eating!”

  “Aiiiee ooo (howl) bek aaau!” Abdegi for “I miss you already!”

  “Porr ol pess waddo.” Elfian for “Walk in the shade.”

  I memorized the sight of the birds and Simon. “Good-bye,” I called. He waved.

  Lest they be frightened out of their feathers, a garden separated the birds from the ogres. We passed beds of flowers while I tried to teach Char a few of the words he’d just heard. His memory was good, but his accent was unalterably Kyrrian.

  “If they heard me, the elves would never let me stand under a tree again.”

  “The gnomes would hit you over the head with a shovel.”

  “Would the ogres decide I was unworthy of consumption?”

  We neared their hut. Even though they were locked in, soldiers were posted within arrow range. An ogre glared at us through a window.

  Ogres weren’t dangerous only because of their size and their cruelty. They knew your secrets just by looking at you, and they used their knowledge. When they wanted to be, they were irresistibly persuasive. By the end of an ogre’s first sentence in Kyrrian, you forgot his pointy teeth, the dried blood under his fingernails, and the coarse black hair that grew on his face in clumps. He became handsome in your eyes, and you thought him your best friend. By the end of the second sentence, you were so won over that he could do whatever he wanted with you, drop you in a pot to cook, or, if he was in a hurry, eat you raw.

  “,pwich aooyeh zchoaK” a soft, lisping voice said.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t sound like an ogre. Where did it come from?”

  “,pwich aooyeh zchoaK” the voice repeated, this time with a hint of tears in its tones.

  A toddler gnome poked his head out of an aqueduct only a few feet from the hut. I saw him at the same moment the ogre did.

  He could reach the child through the unglazed window! I started for the boy, but Char was quicker. He snatched him up just before the ogre’s arm shot out. Char backed away, holding the youngster, who squirmed to get out of his grasp.

  “Give him to me,” I said, thinking I might be able to quiet him.

  Char handed him over.

  “szEE frah myNN,” the ogre hissed, glaring at Char. “myNN SSyng szEE. myNN thOOsh forns.” Then he turned to me and his expression changed. He started laughing. “mmeu ngah suSS hijyNN eMMong. myNN whadz szEE uiv. szEE AAh ohrth hahj ethSSif szEE.” Tears of mirth streaked down his cheeks, leaving trails on his filthy face.

  Then he said in Kyrrian, not bothering to make his voice persuasive, “Come to me and bring the child.”

  I stood my ground. Now I had to break the curse. My life and another’s depended on it.

  My knees began to tremble from the need to walk. I held back, and my muscles cramped, shooting pain through my calves. I squeezed the little gnome in my effort to resist, and he yelped and twisted in my arms.

  The ogre continued to laugh. Then he spoke again. “Obey me this instant. Come. Now.”

  Against my will I took a step. I stopped, and the trembling started again. Another step. And another. I saw nothing, except that leering face, looming closer and closer.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Where are you going?” Char cried.

  He could see where I was going. “I must,” I said.

  “Stop! I command you to stop.”

  I stopped and stood shaking, while soldiers crowded around the hut. Their swords pointed at the ogre, who glared at me, then turned his back and retreated into the dim interior.

  “Why did you listen to him?” Char asked.

  I was still having trouble with the child. He was pulling his little beard and wriggling to escape.

  “,pwich azzoogh fraecH” he cried.

  I used his distress to avoid answering the question. “He’s frightened.”

  But Char wasn’t distracted. “Why did you listen to him, Ella?”

  I had to answer, somehow. “His eyes,” I lied. “Something about them. I had to do what he wanted.”

  “Have they found a new way to bewitch us?” Char sounded alarmed. “I must tell my father.”

  The gnome child wailed, thrashing at the air.

  I wondered if the parrot’s words might soothe him. I spoke them, hoping they weren’t an insult. “.fwthchor evtoogh brzzay eerth ymmadboech evtoogh brzzaY”

  The child’s face cleared, and he smiled, showing pearly baby teeth. “,fwthchor evtoogh brzzay eerth ymmadboech evtoogh brzzaY” he repeated. There was a dimple in the folds of wrinkles and baby fat.

  I put him down, and he took my hand and Char’s.

  “His parents must be worried,” I said. I didn’t know how to ask him where they were, and he was probably too young to answer.

  They weren’t by the ferocious beasts or by the grazing animals. At last, we spied an ancient female gnome sitting on the ground near the pond. Her head was between her knees, an image of defeat. Other gnomes searched the reeds and hedges or questioned passersby.

  “!fraechramM” the little gnome called, pulling at Char and me.

  The old gnome looked up, her face wet with tears. “!zhulpH” She grabbed him in a tight hug and covered his face and beard with kisses. Then she peered at us and recognized Char.

  “Highness, thank you for the return of my grandson.”

  Char coughed, an embarrassed sound. “We’re glad to bring him back, madam,” he said. “He was almost an ogre’s lunch.”

  “Char—Prince Charmont—saved him,” I said. And saved me too.

  “You have the gratitude of the gnomes.” The gnome bowed her head. “I am zhatapH.”

  Hardly taller than I, she was much wider—not stout, but wide, which is the direction gnomes grow after they reach adulthood. She was the most dignified personage I had ever seen, and the oldest (except for Mandy probably). Her wrinkles had wrinkles, small folds in deeper folds of leathery skin. Her eyes were deep set and their copper color was clouded.

  I curtsied, and wobbled. “I’m Ella,” I said.

  More gnomes came, and we were surrounded.

  “How did you persuade him to come with you?” zhatapH asked. “He would not go with most humans.”

  “Ella spoke to him,” Char said, sounding proud of me.

  “What did you say?”

  I hesitated. It was one thing to imitate parrots for Simon or to speak to a baby. It was another to sound like a fool in front of this stately lady. “,fwthchor evtoogh brzzay eerth ymmadboech evtoogh brzzaY” I said finally.
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  “No wonder he came with you,” zhatapH said.

  “!fraecH” zhulpH cried joyously. He squirmed in her arms.

  A younger gnome woman took the child. “Where did you learn to speak Gnomic?” she asked. “I am zhulpH’s mother.”

  I explained about the parrots. “What did I say to zhulpH?”

  “It is an expression. We say it as a greeting,” zhatapH said. “In Kyrrian it is ‘Digging is good for the wealth and good for the health.’” She held her hand out to me. “zhulpH is not the only one you will save. I see it.”

  What else could she see? Mandy had said a few gnomes could tell the future. “Can you see what’s ahead for me?”

  “Gnomes do not see detail. What you will wear tomorrow, what you will say, are mysteries. I see outlines only.”

  “What are they?”

  “Danger, a quest, three figures. They are close to you, but they are not your friends.” She let my hand go. “Beware of them!”

  On our way out of the menagerie, Char said, “Tonight I shall triple the guard around the ogres. And soon I shall catch a centaur and give it to you.”

  Dame Olga was punctual. She and her daughters watched while my trunk and a barrel of Tonic were loaded on top of the coach.

  Father was there to see me off, and Mandy stood at a distance.

  “How few things you have,” Hattie told me.

  Dame Olga agreed. “Ella is not outfitted in accordance with her station, Sir Peter. My girls have eight trunks between them.”

  “Hattie has five and a half trunks, Mother. And I have only—” Olive stopped speaking to count on her fingers. “Less. I have less, and it’s not fair.”

  Father cut in smoothly. “It’s most kind of you to take Ella with you, Dame Olga. I only hope she won’t be a bother.”

  “Oh, she won’t bother me, Sir P. I’m not going.”

  Father winced at the abbreviation.

  Dame Olga continued, “With a coachman and two footmen, they will be safe from everything except ogres. And from ogres I could offer little protection. Besides, they’ll have more fun without their old mother.”

  After a pause, Father said, “Not old. Never old, madam.” He turned to me. “I wish you a comfortable journey, child.” He kissed my cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

  Liar.

  A footman opened the coach door. Hattie and Olive were handed in. I ran to Mandy. I couldn’t leave without a last hug.

  “Make them all disappear. Please,” I whispered.

  “Oh, Ella, sweetie. You’ll be fine.” She clasped me hard.

  “Eleanor, your friends are waiting,” Father called.

  I climbed into the coach, stowing a small carpetbag in a corner, and we started to move. For comfort I touched my chest where Mother’s necklace was concealed. If she were alive, I wouldn’t be rolling away from home in the company of these creatures.

  “I would never embrace a cook.” Hattie shuddered.

  “No,” I agreed. “What cook would let you?”

  Hattie returned to an earlier subject. “With so few belongings, the other girls will hardly know whether you are a servant or one of us.”

  “Why does your gown pucker in front?” Olive asked.

  “Is that a necklace? Why wear it under your clothes?” Hattie asked.

  “Is it ugly?” Olive said. “Is that why you hide it?”

  “It’s not ugly.”

  “Show it to us. Ollie and I so want to see it.”

  An order. I brought it out. It didn’t matter here. There were no thieves to steal it.

  “Ooooh,” Olive said. “It’s even nicer than Mama’s best chain.”

  “No one would think you were a servant with that. It’s very fine. Although it’s much too long for you.” Hattie fingered the silver ropes. “Olive, see how milky the pearls are.”

  Olive’s fingers joined Hattie’s.

  “Let go!” I shifted out of their reach.

  “We wouldn’t hurt it. May I try it on? Mother lets me try on her necklaces and I never hurt them.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “Oh, let me. There’s a dear.”

  An order. “Do I have to?” I asked. It slipped out. I could have swallowed my tongue.

  Hattie’s eyes glittered. “Yes, you have to. Give it over.”

  “Just for a minute,” I said, unclasping it. I didn’t delay. They mustn’t see me struggle against the curse.

  “Fasten it around my neck …”

  I did so.

  “… Olive.”

  The order had been for her sister.

  “Thank you, my dear.” Hattie settled back in her seat. “I was born to wear jewels like this.”

  “Let me try it, Ella,” Olive said.

  “When you’re older,” Hattie answered.

  But I had to obey. I tried desperately to ignore Olive’s order, but all my complaints started: churning stomach, pounding temples, shortness of breath.

  “Let her have her turn,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “See,” Olive said. “Ella says I can.”

  “I know what’s best for you, Olive. You and Ella are both too young—”

  I lunged at her and unfastened the necklace before she had time to stop me.

  “Don’t give it to her, Ella,” Hattie said. “Return it to me.”

  I did.

  “Give it to me, Ella,” Olive said, her voice rising. “Don’t be so mean, Hattie.”

  I snatched the necklace back from Hattie and passed it to Olive.

  Hattie stared at me. I could see her start to work out what had happened.

  “Mother wore that necklace to her wedding,” I said, hoping to deflect her thoughts. “And her mother …”

  “Are you always so obedient, Ella? Return the necklace to me.”

  “I won’t let her,” Olive said.

  “Yes you will, or I’ll see that you get no dinner tonight.”

  I took the necklace away from Olive. Hattie fastened it around her neck and patted it complacently. “Ella, you should give it to me. It would be a token of our friendship.”

  “We’re not friends.”

  “Yes we are. I’m devoted to you. Olive likes you too, don’t you, Ollie?”

  Olive nodded solemnly.

  “I believe you will give it to me if I say you must. Do so, Ella, for friendship’s sake. You must.”

  No, I wouldn’t. She couldn’t have it. “You can have it.” The words burst from me.

  “Thank you. What a generous friend we have, Olive.” She changed the subject. “The servants were careless when they cleaned the coach. That dust ball is a disgrace. We shouldn’t have to ride in such filth. Pick it up, Ella.”

  An order I liked. I grabbed the dust and ground it into her face. “It becomes you,” I said.

  But the satisfaction was fleeting.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Hattie didn’t know about Lucinda and the curse, but she understood I always had to follow her orders. After I rubbed dust in her face, all she did was smile. The smile meant that dust weighed little in the balance of her power.

  I retreated to a corner of the coach and gazed out the window.

  Hattie hadn’t ordered me not to take the necklace back again. What if I lifted it over her large head? Or what if I yanked it off her neck? It would be better broken than owned by her.

  I tried. I told my arms to move, told my hands to grasp. But the curse wouldn’t let me. If someone else had ordered me to take it back, I would have had to. But I couldn’t will myself to reclaim it. So I made myself look at it, to become accustomed to the sight. While I stared, Hattie stroked the chain, gloating.

  In a few minutes her eyes closed. Her mouth fell open, and she began to snore.

  Olive crossed the carriage to sit next to me. “I want a present to show we’re friends too,” she said.

  “Why don’t you give me a gift instead?”

  The furrows in her forehead deepened. “No. You give me.”


  An order. “What would you like?” I asked.

  “I want money. Give me money.”

  As he’d promised, Father had given me a purse of silver KJs. I reached into my carpetbag and pulled out a coin. “Here you are. Now we’re friends.”

  She spat on the coin and rubbed it to make it shine. “We’re friends,” she agreed. She crossed back to her former seat and brought the coin close to her eyes to study it.

  I looked at the snoring Hattie. She was probably dreaming of ways to order me about. I looked at Olive, who was running the edge of the KJ over her forehead and down her nose. I began to long for finishing school. At least there they wouldn’t be my only companions.

  In a few minutes Olive joined Hattie in slumber. When I was certain both of them were soundly asleep, I dared to fetch Mandy’s other present, the book of fairy tales, out of my bag. I turned away from the two of them, to hide the book and to catch the light from the carriage window.

  When I opened it, instead of a fairy tale, I found an illustration of Mandy! She was dicing a turnip. Next to the turnip was the chicken I had watched her pluck that morning. She was crying. I had suspected she was fighting back tears when she hugged me.

  The page blurred because my eyes filled with tears too. But I refused to cry in front of Hattie and Olive, even if they were asleep.

  If Mandy had been in the coach with me, she would have hugged me and I could have cried as long as I liked. She would have patted my back and told me—

  No. Those thoughts would make me cry. If Mandy were here, she’d tell me why it would be big, bad magic to turn Hattie into a rabbit. And I’d wonder again what fairies were good for.

  That helped. I checked to make sure they were still sleeping; then I examined the next page. It showed a room that probably was in King Jerrold’s castle, because Char was there and the crest of Kyrria was painted on the wall above a tapestry. Char was talking to three of the soldiers who had been in the ogres’ guard at the menagerie.

  I puzzled about the meaning. Maybe an explanation would follow. I turned the page and found two more illustrations, neither one of Char or soldiers.