Fairest Read online

  Ivi called out for a towel. I looked into the hand mirror—Skulni—again. Now I saw nothing. No reflection, only glassy gray. How could that be? Then Skulni clarified. I saw my usual reflection.

  “Oh, Lady Aza, where’s my towel?”

  I fetched the towel. What had I seen? I gave Ivi my arm to lean on as she stepped out of the tub. Had I imagined the reflection? I helped her into her satin shift, which buttoned in the back. I began to button it but had to stop because my hands were trembling.

  She laughed. “I’d hoped for a speedy lady-in-waiting.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.” I took a breath, and my hands steadied.

  So that was how I’d look if I was beautiful.

  When she was dressed, in a coral-colored gown with embroidered sleeve liners, she sat at the dressing table while I brushed her hair.

  “Did you learn the song?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” I sang the melody. “Would you mouth the words?”

  She sat on the bed and did so. I accompanied her softly, although I could hardly keep my mind on the song. My beautified face floated before me. A magic mirror! Did it produce only illusions, or might its magic alchemize me from lead into gold?

  I pity anyone who’s never experienced an Ayorthaian Sing. Participants in a Sing, especially a Healing Sing, are wrapped in an embrace of fellow feeling, neighborliness, kinship, love. Yes, love. The embrace was particularly loving tonight, because the sick one was our adored king.

  But I felt apart from the embrace, because of the role I was about to play.

  Prince Ijori sat next to me, with Ivi on his other side. I felt his disapproval of me, although he said nothing. Oochoo put her head in my lap. I patted her with a trembling hand.

  Singers perform in reverse order, according to their rank. Ivi was slated to sing last. I wasn’t her lady-in-waiting yet, and as an unknown commoner, I was to sing first.

  People were still settling into their seats. Silk and satin rustled. I heard whispered greetings.

  Sir Uellu raised his gold baton. We all began to hum. He nodded at me. I stood and took a step—and my slipper heel caught on the hem of my underskirt. I stumbled and would have fallen, except that Prince Ijori saved me.

  His hand was on my elbow, and his arm was around my waist. I almost fainted.

  He lurched, because of my weight, no doubt. He caught himself, and when we were steady again, he released me. I mounted the steps to the stage, praying to remain upright.

  Laughter rippled through the crowd. They were laughing at me, at my stumble or my ensemble or simply my person. I looked down to hide my blush and saw the true reason for the laughter. Oochoo had followed me up to the stage and was sitting at my side, apparently ready to sing.

  My first note was a mumble. I couldn’t get enough air to sing.

  I heard a low whistle. Oochoo raised her head, then trotted down from the stage. I found my breath and began.

  By the third line, everyone was silent, listening. By the beginning of the second stanza, many were holding hands and swaying. The duchess was swaying but not holding anyone’s hand. She wasn’t a hand holder.

  My melody was intricate, but I hoped it wasn’t daunting. I wanted Amonta to sound idyllic and remind people of their home villages. I wanted my song to reach the king and remind him of his loving subjects beyond Ontio. That might strengthen him.

  “And the inn dissolved

  In music.”

  I finished with a tricky trill. Most of the hands in the hall went up. Prince Ijori’s hands were up, and he was smiling. Even Frying Pan near the door raised hers.

  Ivi’s hands were up, but her expression was angry. She was jealous of my voice! Jealous, even though she needed my voice for her voice.

  I left the stage. The next singer took my place. I reviewed Ivi’s song and discovered that I couldn’t remember one of the sentences. A complete sentence! Ivi would have to leave it out. But how could I tell her, here in the middle of the Sing?

  The missing sentence returned to me. Everyone would hate it. I reviewed the song again. And again.

  Eventually I came out of my fright and heard the remaining songs. Some were adapted healing incantations from Ayortha’s primitive past. Some were remembrances of the king. Some were exhortations to him to rise and defeat his injury.

  My favorite was the physician’s. This is a bit of it:

  “In dreams, friends float to me.

  They murmur. Make me well.

  Don’t let me die. I mumble

  Incantations. Get well.

  Do not die.

  “Oh, king,

  You float to me.

  Your face is granite.

  I raise you above the water.

  I push you below. I acquaint

  You with the tides. Do not die.”

  My second favorite was the choirmaster’s. Sir Uellu sang that he’d been unable to sing when he heard the news. Now his voice cracked twice. The cracking, unintended and heartfelt, only added to the beauty of his song.

  After the choirmaster it was Prince Ijori’s turn. I smiled encouragingly at him, as if my encouragement would matter.

  This was how he began:

  “My lord, are you in pain?

  Uncle, are you in pain?”

  I wept. It was hard to bear, to think of the king in pain. He ended with:

  “I wish my head had borne

  The blow that felled a king.”

  Oh! I didn’t wish that. I wished no one had been hurt.

  After Prince Ijori’s song, Princess Elainee sang. Ivi was next. My throat was closing.

  Someone would catch us. I’d never mislead them all.

  When the princess finished singing, Ivi rose. She didn’t seem frightened. She’d do her part perfectly, but I’d fail. We’d both be disgraced. I’d go to prison.

  My throat was dry. I swallowed, but no saliva came. I couldn’t sing with a dust-dry throat.

  She held her arms at her sides, palms out, as the other singers had done. She threw back her head and opened her mouth.

  I came in on time. I gave her Mother’s voice, bell-like and clear as mountain air. It was as delicate as Ivi herself, with unexpected reserves of force and air.

  Sir Uellu dropped his baton.

  “Dear Oscaro, I miss you dreadfully,

  more dreadfully even than your head must hurt.”

  I stayed with her on every word. She caught my eye and smiled as she sang. I blushed.

  Several people swayed and nodded. Sir Uellu picked up his baton. I sensed his ears almost vibrating with the intensity of his listening. I didn’t let my voice waver—or my mouth move—but my jaw felt like ice.

  “I have not yet stopped weeping. I hope my

  singing pleases you. I am arrayed in a yellow gown,

  yellow for sadness.”

  The swaying slowed. The words were what a child might write.

  “If I look well, it is for you. The gown’s

  pretty train stands for my grief, which drags

  behind me wherever I go. I will rule

  Ayortha for you, so you must not worry.

  I will be a powerful queen.”

  Fewer and fewer people swayed or nodded. She began the part that didn’t sound like her.

  “I shall expect obedience, loyalty, and

  respect from my subjects.”

  I saw people exchange looks. She was no longer singing about the king, and nothing in her words would help him get better.

  “The hallmarks of my rule will be a firm

  hand and a stern heart. I will rely on the

  governing principles of my native Kyrria.”

  At the mention of Kyrria I felt the mood in the hall turn angry.

  “They say this Sing will make you better. I

  will make Ayortha better as well. I live

  for your awakening.”

  My gaze happened to fall on Frying Pan, who looked like a pot about to boil over. A few people dared to stamp their fe
et.

  Ivi smiled her most dazzling smile. She must have felt everyone’s response. I would have run off the stage, but she continued to mouth words. I sang the ending.

  “Your affectionate wife and ruler of Ayortha,

  Queen Ivi.”

  She held out her arms, as though receiving a tribute. She turned from side to side, including everyone. Then she left the stage, not hurrying, still smiling.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  PRINCE IJORI AND I followed Ivi out of the Hall of Song. As soon as the door closed behind us, she stopped smiling. She stormed through the corridor.

  “They should have loved my song. They shouldn’t have hated it. I said I miss Oscaro.”

  The prince and I hurried to keep up. Oochoo trotted between us. My shadow and the shadows of Prince Ijori and Oochoo merged into a shapeless splotch on the corridor wall. Ivi’s shadow, thin and wavery, bobbed ahead.

  “I said my grief trails—”

  Prince Ijori broke in. “Your Majesty, perhaps—”

  She whirled on him. “Why did you let me say the wrong things?” She whirled on me. “Why did you?”

  I said nothing. I’d seen guests in rages at the Featherbed. The only sensible course was to wait out the fury.

  He said, “But Your Majesty, if you—”

  “Don’t contradict me!”

  We marched on. After a few minutes we reached Ivi’s door. Oochoo sat, wagging her tail.

  “You needn’t come in. Aza, I think I remember how to disrobe.”

  I curtsied and Prince Ijori bowed. Ivi went inside, slamming the door behind her.

  We left her chambers, a dispirited trio. Even Oochoo’s tail was down.

  We heard a crash. She’d thrown something. I hoped it hadn’t been Skulni, the hand mirror. Oochoo ran away, down the corridor. A moment later we heard Ivi weeping. I couldn’t pity her. We hurried after Oochoo.

  When we were far from her door, Prince Ijori said, “I trust you’ll be silent about the queen’s outburst.”

  “Of course.”

  We reached the Great Hall. It was dim, illuminated by only a few lanterns. Our heels echoed on the tiles. Prince Ijori guided me to a table where a candle burned. On the table were several unlit candles in candleholders.

  He lit a candle for me. “Can you find your room from here?”

  “I think so.” I wished I could have news of the king before I tried to sleep. “Do you think your uncle’s condition might have changed?”

  “I was intending to visit him. You may come if you like.”

  It was a grudging invitation, but I wanted to go with him and learn whether the Sing had harmed or helped.

  He took a candle for himself. We entered a new corridor.

  When he spoke again, his voice was strained. “Tomorrow I’ll draw up the papers to make you a lady and the queen’s lady-in-waiting. You cannot join the nobility unless your family owns land. The queen is graciously giving you a parcel of the crown’s land, fifty acres. It is excellent—”

  “Pardon me.” I stopped walking. My knees felt weak. “Did you say land? Your Highness, did you say fifty acres?”

  He waited for me. His voice was a shade friendlier. “Yes, and your wage will be ten gold yorthys a month.”

  I touched the wall to steady myself. Ten gold yorthys a month! Fifty acres! This would mean everything to the Featherbed, to my brothers’ and Areida’s futures. I murmured, “We’re rich!”

  “There’s also a gallon of rendered boar fat on the first day of winter.” His face was in shadow, but his tone was amused. “The fat is customary.”

  Ivi was paying me well for my crime. I began to walk again.

  He added, “My uncle chose Lady Arona to be the queen’s lady-in-waiting. Arona knows the ways of the court.”

  And I knew nothing.

  I wanted to promise him that I’d serve the queen faithfully, but I didn’t know what faithful service to her would mean. I wanted to promise I’d serve Ayortha faithfully, but I was engaged in duping the entire court. After a moment I said, “I’ll do my best to serve her honorably.” I would try to do that. I would try to serve her well in spite of herself, in spite of my fear, in spite of my anger, in spite of my duplicity.

  “I hope you will. I hope you’ll serve Ayortha honorably, too.”

  I think my heart stopped beating for a full minute. I heard Oochoo’s panting.

  He changed the subject. “Your song comforted me.”

  Without thinking, I said, “Yours made me weep.” At home that was a compliment. Was it a terrible thing to say here?

  “I saw. Thank you. But your song—It was a comfort to know that your family, so far away, would feel as keenly for my uncle as we do here.”

  “We love the king at the Featherbed. Father collects reports of him from our guests. Every year, in honor of his birthday, Mother and Father and my brothers and my sister and I write a song to celebrate.”

  “I’d like to hear you all.”

  If only he could! “We’d give you the Peacock chamber, where the duchess stays.” It would seem shabby, compared to the rooms here.

  “What would your cook serve?”

  “Hart with fire peppers.” I sang,

  “Peppers in the pan

  Make your mouth dance.

  Peppers on the tongue

  Make your nose run.”

  Then I blushed. At least it was too dark for him to see.

  He laughed, really laughed. Oochoo jumped up on him.

  He sang,

  “Peppers on the tongue

  Make your nose run.”

  I wanted to sing him every silly song of my childhood. I was pleased at taking him out of his sadness for a bit.

  As we turned into a new hallway, he said, “Perhaps the queen chose well in choosing you. She may prefer a companion to an instructor. My uncle would understand that.”

  I whispered, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  “When she blamed us for her song, I argued with her. Did you wish to argue too?”

  I shook my head. “When guests rage, it’s best to let the rage blow itself out.”

  “Were they always terrible, your guests who raged?”

  How nice, to be royalty. No one had ever before dared to behave badly to him. “Some were decent and good, once they stopped being angry.”

  We reached Sir Enole’s chambers.

  Prince Ijori put his hand on the knob but didn’t turn it. “If we’re to attend the queen together, you should call me Ijori.”

  Ijori? Ijori! I didn’t think I could say it, so I nodded.

  He patted Oochoo. “Oochoo answers to ‘her royal high-houndyness.’ Shall we go in, Aza?”

  “Yes, please, Prince Ijori.”

  “Ijori.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can. Yes, please …”

  “Yes, please …” My voice dropped to a mumble. “I-ijori.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE MAIDSERVANT WHO’D stayed at the king’s side during the Sing said that he’d been agitated while it took place.

  “His breathing is easier now,” Sir Enole said. “The Sing may have helped him. It’s too soon to tell.”

  Ijori pulled a chair next to his uncle. I stood just inside the door, knowing I didn’t belong. I was nothing to King Oscaro, only a subject. The king’s hand was curled at his side. His cuticles were bitten ragged. I had no right to see that. I curtsied and left.

  In my room I couldn’t sleep. Behind my closed eyelids, faces kept floating into view—Ivi’s, Ijori’s, the king’s, and my own, made beautiful in Skulni. I was awake half the night, and in the morning I was tired and homesick.

  I sang another childhood ditty:

  “I’m solitary as a pulled tooth,

  Lonely as an unwelcome truth,

  Lost as a minnow out of school,

  A genius in a crop of fools.”

  I penned a letter to my parents, telling them what had befallen the king. Then I wrote,

&nbs
p; You will scarcely credit what has happened. The queen has made me her lady-in-waiting. I cannot explain it …

  Or I’d go to prison.

  … but it’s true. There is to be a wage and land, and I am to be a lady.

  I told them the particulars, struggling for a happy tone and hoping my words didn’t seem forced. I ended by asking them to kiss Imilli, the originator of my good fortune.

  Although I wanted to tell them about Ijori, there was little to tell. He was handsome and charming and good-natured. He loved his dog and distrusted me.

  When I dressed for the day, I picked among Dame Ethele’s remaining ensembles, all overdecorated, all loathsome. The one I selected was patterned in brick red and purple and green and pale blue.

  Why couldn’t Dame Ethele have liked just one color?

  I left my room and went to help the duchess with her packing. She was surprisingly cordial and promised to deliver my letter. She even said I could keep Dame Ethele’s gowns as long as I needed them.

  On second thought, that may not have been cordiality. It may have been punishment!

  After I managed to lock the duchess’s bulging trunks, I bade her farewell. She was my last tie to home, and soon she’d be gone. She was bad-tempered and difficult, but she meant me no harm, and I’d miss her.

  In the Banquet Hall I asked a serving maid for a tray I could take to the queen.

  Wondering what my reception would be, I knocked on the door to Ivi’s apartments. There was no answer. I knocked again, and again received no answer.

  “Lady Aza!” Ivi hurried down the corridor toward me, her robe billowing out behind her. The sun streamed through the corridor windows, bathing her in light. She was a celestial creature.

  “I was in the physician’s sickroom with my lord, with my Oscaro.” She flowed onto the bed and lay, looking up at me.